


We Should Just Kiss (Like Real People Do)

by tog



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Accidental Kissing, Arc Reactor Issues, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Jealous Steve, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mouth-to-Mouth, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Tony Stark, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-01-06 06:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21222236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tog/pseuds/tog
Summary: Tony Stark has a bad habit of kissing his fellow Avengers.Five Avengers Tony kissed + One Avenger that kissed Tony





	1. Clint

**Author's Note:**

> This disregards Civil War and everything beyond. Everyone's happy and friendly. Tony also has his arc reactor because I said so :)   
Updates every 1-2 days. Chapters are written and just need to be edited!

“I could use a lift, Iron Man.” Clint’s voice crackled over the comm.

“One second, honey.” Tony replied, blasting through the snow filled sky and taking down as many pigeon-pterodactyl hybrids as he went, “PETA’s going to have a field day with this one.” He mumbled, already irritated at the PR nightmare ahead of him.

“Hawkeye, what’s your position?” Rogers asked, voice in full Captain America mode.

“Right now? I’m on top of the tram where my dearest Tony left me—” He took a sharp turn, already headed towards where his HUD zoomed in on Clint standing atop the Roosevelt Island Tram where a dozen of the flying creatures were circling him, “In about five seconds? The East River if Stark doesn’t hurry it up.”

“On it.” Tony gritted out, forgoing the killer pigeons and pushing his thrusters to the point where FRIDAY was flashing red warnings in his face.

“Hey _Hawkeye_, you don’t happen to be related to these guys?” Tony could hear the smirk on Sam’s face, “Can’t you coo at them and tell them to fly back to wherever they came from?”

“Oh sure, _Falcon_. That’s rich coming from—” Clint yelped as he was snatched up in one of the bird’s jaws. Normally, Tony would have no problem letting the fucker drop, he might even push him in for a laugh, but it was more likely he would crack his skull open before the sheet of ice covering the river would give way. 

Clint had an actual birdbrain or missed out when they were handing out self-preservation at birth; it was the only reason he would have thought shoving an exploding arrow into the creature's mouth was a good idea. There wasn't even a second for Tony to berate Clint for being an idiot. A blast of orange flame and smoke erupted, a stark comparison to the white and gray snowscape of New York, and Clint's purple form was falling out of the creature's hold. Tony redirected all his power to his boots in a futile chase after him, but a moment later Clint hit the river with a _crack, _the ice splintering beneath him before giving way, and sunk below the surface.

Tony dived in after him. The internal heaters cranking up in his suit as he descended further and scooped up Clint. The archer’s body was limp in his grasp, not even shivering as he flew them back to the safety of land.

He stepped out of his suit, the air immediately freezing in his nose as he dropped to his knees and dragged Clint’s head back. He listened for a few seconds, watching Clint’s chest for any sign of movement, but his body remained frozen still. Tony clamped his hands over his prone body and began chest compressions, willing his heart to beat again. He huffed out, his hands moving in a steady rhythm even after Clint's sternum cracked under his fists.

Tony moved from Clint’s chest to his mouth, his lips already a dull shade of blue. He pinched his nose and quickly breathed two short breaths into his lungs.

“C’mon, Clint. Breathe, goddamn it.” Tony vaguely heard the fight die down around him and Captain America's voice barking out his name over the comms. The sound of his own heartbeat in his ears grew louder as he continued to will Clint’s heart to start again. He was shivering, his thin undersuit a poor defense against the chilling wind and packed snow beneath his knees. A crawling feeling of panic was curling around his spine as he finished another round of chest compressions, Clint still unmoving, blonde spikes of hair freezing to his pale forehead. He ducked down again, sucking in enough air to make his lungs spasm in protest, the arc reactor a icy weight sitting heavily in his chest, and met Clint’s mouth once more.

With that, Clint sputtered underneath him, drawing in a deep breath and coughed water right into Tony’s face.

“Shit!” Tony fell back onto his ass as Clint pushed him off and turned onto his side with a groan. Tony flopped onto his back and threw his arms over his face, the adrenaline still coursing through his body, but relieved to hear Clint breathing again.

Clint heaved in a heavy breath. "I think I shattered my ass."

Tony didn’t bother to look up as heavy footfalls quickly approached them.

“Stark! Are you alright?” A second later there was a pair of warm hands on him, patting frantically against his ribs and down his sides. Tony blindly swatted a hand and the hands reluctantly retreated.

“Just in a mild cardiac arrest thanks to bird brain.”

“_Tony_.”

“The guy who almost died is fine too, Cap. Thanks for asking.” Clint said dryly. He shivered and broke out in another coughing fit, struggling to pull in another breath between coughing up mouthfuls of water.

“Can you try not to die again? My lungs can’t handle anymore CPR.” Tony wheezed as he began to sit up. Rogers was still hovering at his side, offering Tony a hand. Tony held onto it for a second longer than necessary, welcoming the warmth of his palm against his frozen fingers. Clint made a choking noise that had them both whirling back towards him. The archer wasn’t unconscious on the ground like he feared, but instead staring at Tony with wide eyes.

“Oh god, were you just kissing me?”

“What?” Rogers’ eyes darted between the two of them. His hand squeezed his for a second before he dropped it, like he had forgotten it was there in the first place. 

“You just gave me the kiss of life!” 

Tony narrowed his eyes him, “How many brain cells did you lose—”

“—Jesus Christ, never do that again.”

Tony spluttered, staring at Clint with a look of disbelief.

“I was saving your life!”

“With the power of _love_.” Clint wiggled his eyebrows at him. Tony tried not to smile as Clint was sent into another coughing fit, gripping his chest.

“Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation isn’t required anymore,” Natasha was suddenly at Tony’s side. “Chest compressions alone are proven to be equally effective.”

“Hah! So he _was _kissing me.”

Tony jerked in surprise as Sam landed on his other side. “Actually, in drowning situations rescue breathing is encouraged.”

“How about a _thanks for freezing your ass off and reviving Clint, Tony! _Got anything like that for me?” Tony suggested, glaring at the group of Avengers around him. Clint still looked smug, despite his chattering teeth and looking like a drowned rat. Natasha and Sam gave him matching raised eyebrows. Thankfully, Rogers looked as uncomfortable as Tony felt irritated. 

“Maybe you should make me some parachute arrows so next time you don’t have to make out with me.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll put it on my list right after a mouth disinfectant to kill any infectious diseases you just gave me.”

“Let’s get Hawkeye to medical and find Hulk. We can debrief after coordinating cleanup.” Rogers said, effectively ending their squabble.

“Aye aye, Captain.” Clint saluted. He winced a bit as he waddled over to Sam, and they took of towards medical. Natasha nodded and disappeared back towards where the Hulk’s angry roars echoed.

Tony made his way back to his armor, letting it comfortably wrap around him like a warm blanket. He pointed ignored the flashing alert on the bottom of his HUD informing him of his rapid heart rate and elevated cortisol levels. He closed his eyes, focusing on the familiar hum of his suit and and the warm air blasting through the heaters. His hand gauntleted hand unconsciously travelled towards his arc reactor, the chilled metal feeling more than ever like an unwelcome intrusion in his chest. 

His eyes fluttered open at three light taps against his faceplate. He flipped it open, face to face with Rogers, who looked less frantic than he did a moment ago.

“Thank you, Stark. Clint jokes, but you know he’s grateful.”

Tony shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt to hear him say it out loud once in a while.” It wasn’t like he was actually upset. He understood more than most how difficult it could be to show thankfulness in situations like this. Not because he was ever ungrateful, but a simple _thank you _never felt like enough.

"You should stop by medical too," Rogers knocked his hand against Tony's gauntlet, but his eyes darted towards the blue glow of arc reactor, "Make sure you don't have frostbite." 

"I think I'll survive," Rogers frowned at him and Tony rolled his eyes, "Friday will monitor me and let me know if any of my fingers are about to fall off." 

Rogers nodded, his mother-henning instinct supposedly soothed for the moment. “Think I could hitch a ride with you back into the city?”

“As long as you don’t fall and make me dive back into the river.”

“I wasn't planning on becoming a Capsicle again,” Rogers huffed out a laugh, “But if I do, I trust you’ll give me the _kiss of life_.” Rogers slipped an arm around his shoulders, and Tony's arm instantly snapped around his waist. 

Tony was only taken aback for a second before a grin spread over his face. “You wish.”

Rogers just hummed in response, and they took off. 


	2. Natasha

“Tell me again why I’m here?”

Natasha swatted Tony’s hand away from where he was fiddling with his bowtie. 

“Fury’s called in a personal favor,” Natasha repeated, straightening out Tony’s tie. “A hard drive containing classified information on outer world technology and its locations is being auctioned off to some of the world’s corrupt conglomerates.” 

“And they’re not about to turn a new leaf and pull a Stark Industries.” Clint chirped from where he was changing out of his stealth suit and into a black Giorgio Armani two-piece suit, courtesy of Tony Stark.

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?” He turned back to Natasha, who was strapping two knives next to the gun on her thigh. “I read the debrief. Why am _I _here?”

He wasn’t exactly thrilled to be called on a super-secret spy mission with the wonder twins, and even less thrilled when he was told to forego the Iron Man suit and sneak into an Italian estate on the southern coast like some James Bond character.

“Steve was busy,” Ouch, “And you know the layout better than any of us. We’re counting on you to maneuver us discreetly while inside.”

She wasn’t wrong. It just so happened that Tony had visited this estate once before, granted, he was more concerned at the time with getting as drunk as possible than memorizing the layout of the place.

Well, it was better than nothing.

“Right, I’m just the glorified GPS.”

“Correct.”

Tony scowled. “These disguises are stupid.”

“The disguises are necessary.”

“Hey, at least yours looks good,” Clint frowned, running a hand over his wig, “You’ve got that silver fox charm going for you. I look like a drowned John Travolta circa Pulp Fiction.”

“We still look like ourselves but with different hair.” 

“It’s enough to keep lingering eyes away,” Natasha said with a finality in her voice. “We just need to get into the storage room in the back manor. I can get through the front and sneak you in through one of the upper levels. If we stick to the plan, the disguises won’t be more than an extra failsafe.”

She was right, of course. The storage room was about as far away from the main ballroom where the auction would be held. There was no reason for anyone to be wandering all the way in the back manor of the estate. There was nothing to worry about.

“You really don’t expect me to scale a wall, do you?”

“Shut up and stick to Clint’s side.”

“It’s actually Francis tonight, _Natalia_.”

Tony flinched back on reflex, not wanting to be in range of Natasha’s arm as it smacked Clint upside the head.

“You and _Antonio_ wait here for my signal.” And with that she snatched the car keys from Clint and drove off towards the front gate of the estate. Tony and Clint watched from the distance through their binoculars, confirming that Natasha made it past the valet and inside.

“There,” Clint said after a few minutes, pointing to an upper floor window. A light flashed three times before the room went dark again. Tony nodded and followed where Clint had already started down the hillside towards the estate.

After dodging around a few guards they were directly under the window Natasha signaled them from. Clint unwrapped the grappling hook from around his back and tossed it up, metal hooks catching the stone railing around the balcony. He gave the rope a few tugs, confident that it could bear their weight, and started climbing. If his sternum or tailbone were giving him any trouble, he didn’t show it.

When Clint made it to the top he motioned for Tony to follow. He warily eyed the stone wall covered in ivy and the rope, palms a little clammier than they were a minute ago. He didn’t want to slow them down any more than necessary, but he wasn’t a super-soldier or trained spy. A fall from that height would mean he probably wasn’t getting back up.

Suddenly he was regretting not taking Rogers up on more of those training sessions he insisted on.

Clint made an impatient noise, jolting Tony out of his head. The image of a sweaty Steve Rogers pinning him down on the gym floor lingered for a moment before he physically shook the thought back. _Huh_. He tucked the mental image away. He’d deal with whatever _that_ was later.

If Clint could do it with a month old tailbone fracture, so could he. He gripped the rope and climbed, steadily ignoring the growing burn in his chest and shoulders. It only took Tony a few more minutes than Clint, but he made it up in one piece and with only a few droplets of sweat on his forehead to show for it.

Natasha was waiting for them at the window with a grim look on her face.

“We’ve got a problem.”

She silently led them out of the study and towards a floor overlooking the ballroom. There were plenty of people milling around with drinks in their hands, a low murmur filling the space as people chatted amongst themselves. In the front of the room was a small stage. A small podium sat in the corner, but in the center was a table illuminated with spotlights, lined with various items ready to be auctioned off. There on the end sat a silver hard drive, identical to the one that was supposed to be sitting in the storage room.

Clint sighed dejectedly. “They must have brought it out of storage right before we got here.”

“Well, I guess that means I can go home now,”

Natasha continued to scan the room before turning towards Tony. “You’re going to have to create a diversion.”

“Isn’t that more _Francis’_ forte? Can’t he give them the ol’ razzle dazzle with one of the millions of arrows I’ve made him?”

“We need something less conspicuous that won’t have the whole estate on lockdown and after our asses.” She hissed. Natasha closed her eyes in quiet contemplation.

Tony felt a twinge of guilt. He was slightly out of his depth here; covert missions weren’t his specialty, he was more of a _go big or go home_, guns blazing kind of guy. He couldn’t help but think that this would be where having Rogers would have its advantages. He was, admittedly, the better strategizer, working best while under pressure. But he was Tony Stark, for fucks sake. His brain was just as important, if not more an asset, than any suit of armor would be. All he had to do was think like him; switch out intricacies for the bigger picture, figure out what they knew and what they didn’t, exploit any new tactical advantages, and channel that brand of unyielding optimism only Captain America could convey.

“We can work with this,” Tony started, “We know exactly where the hard drive is, and we don’t have to break into anymore buildings or disable anymore security systems. The hard part is out of the way, we just have to grab it.”

Clint snorted. “There’s just the small matter of a couple hundred eyewitnesses.”

“But what if they don’t see us,” Tony countered. “Whenever someone tries to get the jump on the Avengers when do they usually do it? When do all the creepy crawly bad guys come out?”

“…at night?”

Tony shot a finger gun at Clint, “Bingo.”

“Where’s the power room located?” Natasha asked.

“Really? You think I just _know_ where it is?” Natasha’s eyes narrowed at him and he raised his arms in surrender. “Fine, I know where it is. But I can’t just walk in there. I won’t make it five feet before someone recognizes me.”

“If I get you into the ventilation system can you find your way there?” Natasha asked, the tightness around her eyes fading a bit. Tony nodded. The mental map he had of the estate was nowhere near cohesive and definitely did not include the air vents, but he had enough of an idea to guide him in the right direction.

“Clint, stay here and watch that hard drive. Bidding starts soon, so if we’re not done by then—”

“Wave Stark’s black card around until then. Got it.”

They weaved their way to the kitchens, thanks to a key card Natasha swiped from an unsuspecting server. Tony tried to angle himself away from any wandering eyes, and managed not to catch any lingering looks.

Natasha motioned for Tony to boost her up to the air vent located at the top of the wall. With a few jerks she freed the metal panel off and shined a light into the space. She nodded and Tony set her down again.

“You should be good. Once you find the electric panel let us know,” She tapped towards the nearly invisible earpiece tucked in her ear, “And we can meet back in the study you entered from.”

Tony nodded, “We finish early and we can swing by Rome for dinner, my treat.”

Natasha braced herself against the wall and motioned for Tony to step onto her linked hands for a boost up, “Not a fan of Italian. Steve on the other hand—”

The door to the kitchen swung open and a server nearly ran into Natasha. The server’s eyes widened, darting between them, “Che sta facendo?”

“Uh,” Tony froze, left foot in Natasha’s hands, “Buonasera?”

Without warning Natasha boosted Tony the rest of the way up, his hands barely catching the edge of the vent before she darted towards the server. With a kick to the face the server instantly fell limp to the floor.

“Jeez, easy on the civilian, Nat.”

“She’ll wake up with a headache and in someone else’s clothes. You’ve been there, right?” She smirked as she started undressing the server. “There’s probably a backup generator, so the lights are only going to be down for a few seconds.” Natasha explained as she swapped clothes, “The only person who can get close to the items inconspicuously is a waitress.”

“Maybe try not to leave a trail of bodies in your wake.” He teased. She finished smoothing the uniform down and dragged the unconscious woman towards the bathrooms.

“Scusate, signore.” She winked at him before disappearing back through the kitchen doors.

Tony sighed and started shuffling his way through the air ducts. He headed towards the power room as stealthily as he could, struggling not to sneeze as he kicked up dust. His respect for Clint’s air vent adventures increased only slightly as he squeezed through the narrow ducts.

After a couple of minutes of awkward crawling back and forth, peeking through the vents to check his progress, he made it to the power room. He jumped down from the vent, his knees cracking in protest. He straightened back to his full height, stretching while he looked for the circuit breakers.

“Hah! There you are.”

Across the room sat the circuit breakers behind a metal gate. Tony deflated when he realized that it was lock and key, nothing he could hack his way into.

Tony started searching around the room for a spare key, or anything he could use to pick the lock. “I’m at the panel but it’s going to be a minute.” He said, pressing on the comm unit in his ear.

“We don’t have a minute, Stark. Bidding’s started and the hard drive is up next.” Clint said through clenched teeth.

A female voice crackled faintly over the comm. _Let us start the bidding at 10 thousand euros. _

“Alright, alright. I’ll…I’ll figure something out.” Tony ran over to a work table in the corner of the room, shuffling around papers in search of a key. He threw open the drawers, quickly sorting through the various bits and bobs, but still no key.

_The bid has reached 40 thousand. Do I hear anymore bids?_

“_Clint_,” Natasha pressed.

“What if they call my bluff?”

Tony scoffed, “I think I can afford 40 thousand euros, guys.”

“Yeah, because it’s not at all suspicious to hand over Tony Stark’s Visa card.”

_Since we have no other bids—going once, going twice—_

“You have to outbid them, Clint.”

“Fine,” Clint grumbled. _It looks like we have 50 thousand euros! Bene. _

Tony flung open the metal lockers, finding nothing more than a dusty hat in the top of one. Tony scanned the room once more. There was nowhere else for a key to be hidden, he wasn’t strong enough to muscle the gate open, and he didn’t have time to find and knock out a security guard in hopes of finding a key on their keyring. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the silver strands in frustration. He whirled back around to the gate, eying the metal bars. It would be a tight squeeze, but he could probably make it. He had to try, at least.

He shoved off his coat and started to squeeze through the gate. He sucked in as much as he could, getting his head, arm, and leg through, but the metal of his arc reactor caught on the bars. He twisted, trying to hunch his shoulders and curl his spine so his chest could clear the gate, but it caught no matter which way he turned. A wave of frustration washed over him, and he mentally cursed the metal in his chest.

_The bidding stands at one hundred thousand euros in the room. Does the gentleman wish to bid again? _

_“_Tony!”

He ground his teeth and decided it was now or never. He let out a muffled yell and forced himself through the bars, the metal caving into his chest with a pinching pain. He stumbled through the gate and barely kept his footing as he crashed into the electrical panel. The tight pain in his chest radiating with every breath.

“Ready?” Tony wheezed out.

“Let’s get this show on the road, unless you’ve got one hundred thousand euros to spare.” Clint said tightly.

“Alright, in 3, 2, 1,” Tony pulled the lever.

The room was instantly plunged into darkness. Tony didn’t wait for confirmation from Natasha or Clint. He pulled himself back through the bars, the pain in his chest spiking once more, and made his way back into the air ducts and towards the study. He crawled as fast as his chest let him, disregarding any finesse for stealth.

He dropped into the study, landing on his side in an ungraceful heap. Natasha was instantly on his side, hauling him up and dragging him towards the window.

“I’ve got the hard drive,” Natasha patted the rectangular form sitting in her apron’s pocket, “But we’ve got to move, now.” She threw open the window and secured their rope. Tony reached forward, but Natasha intercepted his wrist. “I’ll go first.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “What, so you can catch me when I fall?” But Natasha was already out the window.

He waited until she was a few feet off the ground to start his rappel down the wall. His chest ached, even more so with his labored breathing, but he kept his grip tight on the rope. It was a less coordinated climb down, more of a slide than anything if the rope burn on his hands meant anything. He tried to center himself as Clint made his descent, but all too soon they were on the move again, travelling through the tall grass towards the front of the estate.

“Clint, keys,” Natasha ordered, and Clint nodded, heading towards the valet to grab their car. The two of them stood near the entrance, far enough away not to be recognized, but close enough to hopefully not look suspicious. Tony tried his best not to look like an injured man on the run, but it was hard to remain inconspicuous when it felt like his chest was caving in.

The lights had returned and the heavy footfalls of guards sweeping through the estate echoed. A group of guards exited through the front, passing by the valet and fanning out in all directions, a pair of guards heading right towards them.

Tony couldn’t run, not in his condition, and Natasha seemed to realize it too. Her eyes darted around for a hiding place, but they were out in the open, the tall grass not thick enough for them to crouch for cover. There was nowhere to go. Their only option was to hide in plain sight.

Later, he would blame it on his even more so diminished lung capacity and the lack oxygen.

“Sorry,” Tony hoped Natasha wouldn’t instantly chop off his balls as he pulled her in by her face and kissed her. To his surprise, she kissed back harder, flipping them around and covering as much as him from view with her body as possible. He stood pliantly, sandwiched between her and the wall for a few more moments, her hand coming up to caress his face as the guards walked passed without a second glance. When the footfalls disappeared, she broke free from the kiss and straightened Tony’s collar.

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable,” She said with a cryptid smile across her face, “Steve could learn a thing or two from you.”

Tony did a double take. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, nothing.” Natasha smirked. As if on cue, Clint rolled up to them, barely stopping the car long enough for them to get in.

“You can brag about being Steve’s first kiss later.” Clint said, looking antsy.

Tony’s stomach somersaulted at that. A feeling started to curl in his stomach, something close to jealousy. But that made no sense at all. What did he have to be jealous over?

The discomfort stayed with him well after they ditched the car and boarded the Quinjet. He pointedly ignored it the rest of the flight home.

+++

“Hey, how did the—Tony!”

Tony didn’t bother to look up as Rogers entered, eyes scanning the arc reactor core for any damage.

“Should you be—how long can you keep that out?”

Tony looked up and met Rogers’ concerned gaze. “Don’t worry Cap, I have at least 30 seconds before I go into cardiac arrest,” A twisting pain shot through his chest, “Give or take a couple seconds.”

Tony popped the arc reactor core back into his chest, two pairs of relieved sighs filling the room. Rogers eyed the reactor for a moment longer, a wary look on his face. His eyes roamed across Tony’s torso as if looking for something, like if he stared long enough a new injury would appear across Tony’s stomach. 

“Is everything alright? Nat said the Italy mission was a success.”

“Yup. I even learned I still have a few nerve endings in my chest.” Rogers had the look he only got when he was about to insist that Tony go to medical and let someone check him over. “Don’t worry, it’s mostly superficial damage—some scuffs and bruises.” Tony dragged a hand over the blue and purple discoloring around the arc reactor before he dropped his hand and released his shirt from between his teeth.

“You should rest, Tony.”

“Five more minutes, dad.” Tony rolled his eyes and busied himself with a random jumble of wiring and metal plates that he left on his worktable, not really sure what he had been working on before he left. In truth, he didn’t really have a reason to stay down in his workshop other than he was still wired from the mission. God, his body still ached from squeezing through those bars and his arms burned from climbing that rope.

The images of Rogers a sweaty mess, pinning Tony against the gym mats suddenly rushed to the forefront of his mind.

“Actually, how about one of those training sessions?” That earned him a questioning eyebrow, “You, uh, might be onto something with them.”

Rogers cocked his head at him, a smug smile stretched across his lips, “Is Tony Stark admitting he was wrong? I must be dreaming—”

“Yeah, yeah. Any of the others catch wind of this and I swear I’ll personally forward all those _cute_ school PSA’s to the team.”

Rogers’ eyebrows shot up at that.

“How do you know—”

“I’ve got my sources.” Tony shot him a sly, conspiratorial wink. He jumped up from his workbench and started towards the elevator, “C’mon, Cap. Let’s see if you can teach an old dog new tricks.”

+++

Tony limped towards his bed. After flying across the country and then getting his ass tossed around by Rogers—which was decidedly _not_ sexy, and more painful than he imagined, though had a hunch that was due to his earlier threat— he barely had enough energy to shed his clothes and cross his bedroom. Despite the soreness already radiating through his body, it felt good to be back. Even Rogers’ nagging felt less annoying than usual. Tony might have even appreciated his concern.

“Hey Friday, order a shit ton of cannoli for Rogers in the morning. From that one place in Greenwich—”

“Of course, boss.”

“Thanks, Fri.”

+++

When Tony made his way to the shared kitchen the next morning, a warm mug was pressed into his hands before he made it two steps.

“Same time tonight?” Rogers asked as he handed off the coffee. Tony blinked up at him. Rogers only smiled back, a small dusting of powdered sugar stuck to the corner of his mouth.

Tony took a sip of the coffee, hiding his grin. “Sure thing, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was a longer one! If this chapter seems familiar, it's because it's heavily inspired by the Italy mission in Uncharted 4. I also snuck in some silver fox Tony because I can't help myself.   
And finally, thank you for the love on the first chapter! This is my first Stony fic, so I appreciate the kind words :)


	3. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case the title of this chapter freaks you out, I will assure you right now that the kiss in this part is NOT sexual/romantic. It's a purely familial kiss from Tony, to Peter's head. No lips will be touching here!  
There is also a description of a panic attack in this chapter, but it's pretty short.  
This is another long one with a lot more Stony interactions, so buckle up :)

“It’s not too late to change your mind. I can still have you and May set up in a five-star resort in Morocco by five.”

“That’s really generous of you, Mr. Stark. But I think I’m good.”

“I’m just saying, isn’t the point of Spring Break to let loose—go get shit faced on chocolate milkshakes on the beach and sleep in until noon, or whatever kids do these days.”

“Says the guy who spends his mandatory vacation days holed up in his workshop.”

“Eh, do as I say and not as I do,” Tony waved his hand flippantly in the air, paused, and then amended, “Actually. Don’t do as I say. And definitely don’t do as I do. You know what? When in doubt, consider Cap. He turned out alright.”

Steve looked up from his bowl of oats at the mention of his name.

“I’m pretty sure Captain America committed at least three felonies before he was 25,” Peter said dryly. 

“Captain America hasn’t committed any felonies,” Steve said seriously. Peter’s eyebrows shot up and Tony could see the apologies starting to poor out, but Rogers lip quirked up in a smile, “As for Steve Rogers, that’s a different story.”

“Steve Rogers also took drugs from strangers because they promised him super powers,” Clint chimed from the couch, eyes still focused on the video game in front of him. Steve furrowed his eyebrows, but after a moment he gave a reluctant nod.

“That’s fair.”

Tony clapped his hands around Peter’s ears, stretching his face into faux-scandalized look, “Mind the young, impressionable minds in the vicinity!”

“I’m 16, Mr. Stark.”

“Children of today!” Tony continued, leading Peter towards the elevator, “The great leaders of tomorrow!”

“Make sure you and the great leader of tomorrow take a lunch break.” Steve called after them.

Tony ignored him, but unlike any other day, he ignored him because for once Tony already planned on having a lunch break. In fact, he had the next three days planned to a T.

To say Tony was happy to have Peter over for the week was an understatement. He was _excited_. The next seven days were going to be a science extravaganza, something close to what he did during his spring breaks before he started joining other college students in Cancun, getting drunk off raspberry flavored Smirnoff Ice and dancing with strangers in a packed club to some top 40’s song.

If Peter wanted to spend the week science-ing it up with him, then he’d make sure it was the best fucking week of Peter’s life.

There were a few things he had to get out of the way first, of course. He’d have to give Peter the grand tour of the compound and set him up in his room, show him where all the different labs were, where his workshop was. Then, because he wasn’t overly fond of the thought of Peter accidentally atomizing himself, or May hunting him down and murdering him, he had to give him the safety run down. And not just the Tony Stark™ version. The whole shebang.

If Peter was still set on spending the week at the compound they could start on a few personal upgrades to Peter’s suit. The kid had been spit-balling ideas the past few weeks, and Tony figured it was about time he learned to do proper maintenance and upgrades to his multimillion dollar suit instead of jury-rigging it like some high school home ec project.

He figured that would take a day or two, and after that he could introduce him to a few of his own projects that he thought Peter might be interested in. They could start the base code for a new AI. Tony could walk him through building a miniaturized arc reactor. Hell, if the kid wanted to spend the week creating a new element, Tony would hand over a pair of safety goggles and get to work.

Maybe he would let Peter take one of his less intimidating cars out for a spin in the parking lot. May _had_ mentioned that he just got his temps.

If none of _that_ was appealing and Peter decided he was more inclined to the wet sciences, he was sure Bruce wouldn’t mind a few extra sets of hands in his lab. 

And between all that, Tony had remembered to leave time to eat and sleep. He was proud, to say the least.

+++

They drove into the city for dinner, and Peter spent half the time raving about their progress on his suit and the other half stuffing food into his face like it was his last meal.

The spend the drive back in a comfortable silence, quietly humming along to the radio.

+++

When he woke up the next morning Friday told him that Peter was still asleep.

“Let him sleep in,” Tony said as he padded into the kitchen, “He deserves it.”

He passed by Steve who was already dressed and showered for the day and Sam who was still in his running clothes, the smell of dried sweat lingering around him. Tony wrinkled his nose at him, and only got away with it because Sam is always immobile for at least a half hour after his runs with Steve.

“You’ve got to stop going on runs with Steve,” Tony said, pouring himself a cup of coffee before rummaging through the fridge for breakfast, “You’re going to hurt yourself before you ever catch up to him.”

Steve passed Tony a paper box with an assortment of breakfast pastries. Tony took a blueberry muffin before handing the box back with a thankful glance.

“I keep telling him that but I think he’s already lost a few brain cells—he never listens.” Bucky strode into the room and took a seat next to Sam.

Sam shot him an unamused look. “I’m hurt, Barnes. I ran all the way to the city to get you breakfast and this is the thanks I get?”

Bucky snatched the box from Steve, who was in the middle of grabbing a bagel. Steve pouted. Tony broke off a part of his muffin and offered it to him. Steve beamed.

Bucky stared at the box and then back up at Sam. “You got me a croissant?” He deadpanned.

“I suppose I did.” Sam said coyly.

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?” When Sam only shrugged, Bucky pressed on, “What thing of mine did you steal, break, or lose?”

Sam took a bite of his bagel, “I stole your credit card, broke the bank, and lost your money.” Sam stood from his seat and tossed a credit card on the table, and clapped Bucky on the shoulder, “Thanks for breakfast, champ!”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open in disbelief and sat stunned in silence for a moment before taking off after Sam. Tony turned to Steve, the man seemingly unbothered by the interaction before him.

“Sam didn’t _actually_ do that.” Tony found himself saying. Steve shrugged.

“He did steal Buck’s credit card, but unless he only had $20 to his name I don’t think he ‘broke the bank’.” Steve said while he nodded at Bruce as he blearily stumbled towards the table.

“Where’s Peter?” Bruce yawned.

“Sleeping,” Tony answered, suppressing his own yawn. “He had an exciting day.”

“Remember we have team training this afternoon,” Steve said. He turned towards Tony, “I understand if you won’t be making it.”

“What? No, I’ll be there. Peter too.”

It’d be a good opportunity to really test out some of the new features of his suit in a safe environment. Plus, he’d feel much better about sending him out into the world with a little formal training in his back pocket.

Natasha and Clint eventually made their way to the kitchen. Sam came back freshly showered and, at least for the moment, unscathed. By late morning everyone was gathered around the table in various degrees of wakefulness. He considered letting Peter sleep in until noon, but with the way Clint was eyeing the box he figured he should rouse him before all the muffins disappeared.

Tony excused himself and headed towards Peter’s room. He knocked a few times, giving the boy ample time to hide any incriminating objects or make himself decent. A few seconds passed, no telltale sounds of a body falling out of bed and scrambling around the room. Tony knocked once more, a little louder, but the room remained silent.

“Lights at ten percent, Fri.” Tony murmured as he gently pushed open the door.

The pitch black room brightened only slightly as the opaque windows shifted to semitransparent. In the middle of the room sat a four poster bed, the curtains drawn back enough to show a mess of brown curls poking out of the sea of navy blue sheets. Tony sat on the edge of the bed and patted Peter’s ankle.

“Time to get up, kiddo.”

Peter groaned and peeked open an eye, squinting at Tony.

“Wha’ time issit?”

“It is approximately 10 a.m.” Friday answered.

“I’d let you sleep in but we’ve been subpoenaed by Cap for training, and we need to finish up your suit.”

“Five more minutes.” Peter turned, wrapping himself tightly in the blanket. Tony sighed but started out the door.

“Five minutes. Any longer and Friday has permission to blast Pitbull’s discography at full volume.”

+++

If Peter seemed a little more subdued than usual, Tony didn’t bother to mention it.

They finalized the upgrades to his suit just in time to meet the rest of the Avengers in the training facility. Peter perked up a bit surrounded by the heroes, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he animatedly talked at an exasperated Doctor Strange. 

Steve joined him on the floor and began stretching, “Everything alright?”

Tony bent forward and grabbed his toes, the arc reactor touching the tops of his knees. “Just peachy, Cap.” Steve raised an eyebrow at him, and Tony sighed. “Peter seemed a little off this morning but clearly,” He nodded towards where Peter was excitedly greeting Scott, “Everything is fine.”

“I’ll keep an eye out on him.” Steve offered. It wasn’t much, but it was enough of a relief to help him focus on training instead of worrying over Peter.

Training was going smoothly. It wasn’t hard to integrate Spider-Man into their drills and exercises—he worked well as a bridge between air support and the ground fighters.

Spider-Man, Ant-Man, Wasp, and Black Widow at some point deemed themselves the “Bug Avengers”. Tony tried to argue that if Peter was wearing the Iron Spider suit, then he belonged in the “Iron Fam” with him and Rhodey, but after discussion they rebranded as “Team Power Armor” to include Sam since “Bird-vengers” disassembled as soon as Clint suggested it. Steve took pity on the archer and dragged him over to join the two super-soldiers’ sparring match.

“I guess that makes us the Strongest Avengers.” Carol declared with an amused smile. Bruce winced as Thor tackled Carol to the ground, but bit down on a smile when Carol blasted the god into the ceiling and shot him a wink.

Stephen Strange and Wanda worked with Friday to set up the simulation training, adding illusions and effects to the area and training bots. They kept to their teams, getting a feel for the new dynamics on the spot and learning to cover each other’s weak spots and set the other up for success. Sam and Rhodey already had a comfortable camaraderie, working in tandem like a well-oiled machine. Fighting alongside Peter was a struggle at first, with Tony’s overprotective streak and Peter’s need to impress his mentor, but after a few a hiccups they found a rhythm of Spider-Man distracting the enemy and dodging a few hits before Iron Man swooped in and covered him, repulsor blasts finishing the job.

They finished the simulation and rejoined in the center of the room for Tony’s personal favorite part of training days. To an outsider it probably seemed barbaric—a little too Fight Club-esque for a bunch of global level superheroes—but the one-on-ones had its benefits. For one, it bred a special breed of camaraderie between them, to watch their fellow teammates beat this shit out of each other. Second, it gave the captains a chance to get familiar with every individual’s fighting style, something to keep in mind during individual training sessions.

Tony nudged Peter in the ribs. “Oh, this is always a good time.”

Natasha circled around Bucky, eyes narrowed, feet slinking like a cat hunting its prey. Bucky remained planted in the center of the circle, head barely turning but his eyes remained locked on Natasha with ice-cold intensity.

Peter sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “My bet is on Natasha.”

Natasha lunged, the butt of her knife meeting Bucky’s temple. He stumbled back.

“I don’t know, Buck was pretty upset about _last time_,” Steve said with a playful grin.

Bucky swiped at Natasha as she crossed him, but she ducked back, kicking his knife out of his hand and delivered a swift punch to his head, chest, and then arm.

“Yeah, Tasha wiped the floor with him.” Clint said with a fond look towards the redhead.

Bucky got a hold of Natasha and threw her off him, sending her straight into Sam and Scott. Bucky stalked over, but Natasha was back on her feet a second later.

“You get hit in the face, kid?” Tony asked as Peter sniffled once more.

Natasha ran at Bucky and wrapped her thighs around his neck, sending them to the ground.

“It’s just a runny nose.”

Bucky rolled and clamped his arm around Natasha’s neck in a chokehold. The metal plates of Bucky’s arm whirred as Natasha struggled to get free, and elbowed him in the chest, not hard enough to crack a rib but enough for him to let out a grunt.

Tony scanned Peter’s face, but relented his search as he found no signs of bruising. “Try not to get snot on your suit.”

Natasha clawed at Bucky’s face. He shoved her away, not wanting to lose an eye, and Natasha skidded to a stop at their feet, gasping for air. Bucky charged her once again, ready to claim victory, but her hand shot out and grabbed Cap’s shield. She jammed it in his kneecap, forcing the super-soldier down onto his other, and smashed the shield upwards in an uppercut to his chin. Bucky fell over, a dazed look in his eye, and Natasha dragged herself back to her feet, shield in hand.

“I’m pretty sure that’s cheating.” Bucky bristled.

Natasha smirked, “You’re just mad I beat you twice in a row,” She handed back the shield to Steve and tapped Peter on the shoulder, “You’re up, little spider.”

Bucky slowly got up from the floor and limped over towards Steve. “Ugh, I’m done. I’m tapping you in.”

Peter pulled on his mask and jumped towards the center of mats. Tony grabbed Steve’s arm, meeting his eyes.

“Try not to squash my spider, okay?”

Steve nodded earnestly, and Tony loosened his grip.

Peter was nearly vibrating as he sized up Steve. It was a moot point, asking Steve to take it easy on him—even though Peter lacked formal training and the tactical experience of a century old super-soldier, he had a literal extra sense protecting him and faster reflexes. Tony was willing to bet that Peter was stronger than Steve too. And if Peter thought Steve was giving him a freebie, he’d undoubtedly push harder and force Steve to fight as an equal.

Steve threw his shield at Peter, catching him in his shoulder. Peter shot a web to Steve’s face, pulling him in and sending him right back with a kick to the chest. Steve’s cowl flew off. He gripped his shield a little tighter.

Well, so much for going easy.

“Careful, Cap.” Sam called.

“Itsy bitsy is stronger than you think.” Bucky added.

They traded blows. Peter dodged. Steve threw a punch with considerably less force behind it than usual. They danced around the gym in an evenly matched fight, the minutes passing in a tense silence only with the occasional grunt from the two men.

Peter was starting to drag, his kicks getting sloppier and Steve’s fists coming closer. Cap of course noticed it too, and before Tony could really start worrying Steve caught Peter’s hand in mid punch and patted him on the back.

“Alright, I think we’re good for today. Good job everyone.”

It was a testament to how tired Peter must have been, because he didn’t argue or press on. He flopped to the floor with heaving breaths, the lenses on his mask closed.

Tony let the nanites disassemble around him, leaving him in his black undersuit. He walked over to Peter and offered him a hand up.

“Ugh, I think I got snot all over my mask.” He groaned, rubbing at his shoulder. “I need a nap.”

Tony chuckled and led Peter out of the training facility and back towards the living quarters. “You did good today, kid. Wash up, eat, take a nap. You can meet me in my workshop when you’re rested up.”

+++

“_Tony._”

Tony looked up from his tablet to see Steve staring at him with an exasperated look. His tone suggested it wasn’t the first time he tried getting his attention.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Tony set down his tablet and kicked a stool out from under his worktable. Steve took a seat and scanned the workshop, eyes finally coming back to Tony.

“Where’s Peter?”

“He’s napping. He was pretty pooped after training.”

“Tony,” Steve said with fake patience, “It’s eight o’clock.”

Tony nearly jumped out of his seat. “A.M.?”

Steve shook his head, “In the evening.” He clarified.

That wasn’t much better. Peter had been napping for around five hours, and spent more hours asleep today than awake. His sleep schedule was going to be all out of whack, and Tony had the distinct feeling that May would not appreciate him returning her nephew on a nocturnal schedule.

Tony hopped off his stool and quickly threw a pair of jeans on over his undersuit, having not been bothered to change out of it after training, and headed out of the workshop and towards Peter’s room to drag the kid out of bed for the second time today, Steve travelling behind him.

“Rise and shine, Spidey-Boy!” Tony flipped on the lights as he entered, making a b-line towards the lump of sheets and blankets in the middle of the bed. “Wakey wakey, no eggs and bakey. Unless you ask Cap nicely, he—Jesus, what happened?”

Tony pulled the covers back and was met by a pale, shaky, and snot covered Peter Parker. He instantly pressed his hand against Peter’s forehead, and nearly yanked it away when he was met with boiling hot skin.

“Steve, get Bruce.” Tony barked. Peter winced at the noise and Tony lowered his voice to just above a whisper, “Fri, lights down to ten percent.”

Steve returned a few moments later with an ice pack in hand and a rumpled looking Bruce in tow. Steve pressed the cool pack into Tony’s hand and took a step back, allowing room for Bruce to brush past him.

Tony brushed Peter’s curls off his forehead and gently pressed the ice pack over his eyes and forehead. Peter whimpered but pressed into the cool bag.

“How are you feeling, Peter?” Bruce quietly asked. Peter flinched even at that, but let out a shaky breath.

“My head and neck really hurts, and I feel weak.” He said. Bruce mumbled something about blood samples and scans, but Peter suddenly swatted at Tony’s hand and sat up, his legs caught in the tangle of his sheets. He leaned over the bed and threw up next to Tony’s feet. Tony’s stomach churned at the smell, but he stayed put and rubbed Peter’s back as he heaved in a breath.

“Bathroom?” Tony asked, but Peter shook his head.

“I think I’m done,” He said, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright kid. Been there, done that. Spent most of my twenties worshipping at the porcelain altar,” Tony rambled, shaky hands still rubbing circles across Peter’s back.

“Peter, can you press your chin to your chest and tell me if you get a shooting pain up your neck?” Bruce asked, calm as ever. Steve was already digging through the en suite bathroom closet for cleaning supplies. Peter did as he was told, holding his chin there for a few seconds, and shook his head. Bruce released a breath Tony didn’t know he was holding.

“That’s good. Probably not meningitis.” Bruce mumbled to himself. Tony whipped around to Bruce.

“_Probably_?” Prickly tendrils of panic crawled up his spine. He tried breathing through his nose as Bruce went on to explain various tests and diagnoses, the panic spreading and curling behind his ear. Now was _not_ the time to panic, he scolded himself. But another look at Peter’s pale and limp form sent a dizzying wave of anxiety over him.

A hand landed on his shoulder, pulling his head above the water.

“Let’s get Peter some water while Bruce runs some tests.” Steve suggested, but was already leading him out of the room.

Tony let himself be pushed into the kitchen before he succumbed to his panic. Images of an unresponsive Peter barraged him. It felt like he had been thrust out of the eye of the storm and into the worst of the hurricane. He gasped for air and pressed his tingling hand to his chest, feeling for the gentle hum of the arc reactor. His other hand, cold and clammy, gripped the fabric of his jeans in a death grip, afraid that if he let go his body would be torn apart and scattered into the air like leaf in a tornado.

“You’re safe. _Peter_ is safe.”

Steve’s face was suddenly a few inches away from him. Tony could see him, but it was hard to get a good look at him in the midst of the chaos.

“Is touch okay?”

Tony managed to nod his head. A hand cupped the back of his neck, a comforting weight acting like a barrier to the spreading panic, stopping it from fully consuming his mind.

“Focus on me, Tony.” A firm but comforting voice ordered him. Tony’s mind clung to the instruction, glad to have something to focus on instead of letting his mind run wild. Steve’s other hand disentangled Tony’s fingers from his jeans and pressed it over his heart, the warm plane of his chest rising and falling in even breaths.

“It’s just cortisol and noradrenaline flooding my system. The adrenal medulla secreting hormones that are overriding any sense of logic.” Tony babbled mechanically.

“Fight or flight,” Steve elaborated.

Tony nodded, “Right. Just a reactive symptom.”

At some point Tony’s breaths started to match Steve’s, and the tingling in his fingers started to fade. Steve continued to run his thumb across Tony’s neck, well past when Tony finally regained his bearings.

“Want me to check on Peter and Bruce?” Steve asked. Tony shook his head, and gingerly pulled his arm back to his side. Steve caught his eye and squeezed his hand before letting go. Tony offered him a smile. If his heart beat extra hard for a few seconds, he wrote it off as residual panic and nothing more.

“No, I need to be with him.” Tony decided. Steve thankfully didn’t fight him on it. He took another deep breath, accepted a glass of water from Steve and filled another one for Peter, and headed back to his room.

Bruce had finished up gather scans and blood samples and reassured Tony that he would have Friday let him know as soon as he knew anything. Tony thanked him, watching him disappear down the hallway towards his lab.

Steve remained in the doorway as Tony rearranged the room, pulling the chair from the desk in the corner of the room to the side of Peter’s bed.

“Do you want to move him to medical?”

Tony watched Peter’s chest rise and fall every few seconds, his brow furrowed even as he slept. He bent down and moved the now room tempered pack off his forehead, and pressed a kiss into his hair. “If he gets worse. But I think he’d be more comfortable here.”

“Alright. Try to get some rest, Tony. He needs you at your best.”

“Steve?” Tony called, turning around to face him.

Steve stopped mid-step, hand on the door frame, and looked at him. His face was soft and open— eyebrows faintly raised, lips slightly parted. His eyes darted back to Peter’s sleeping form, unguarded worry passing across his features, and returned back to Tony. Steve had pulled him out of his head when he had every reason to leave him to his own devices. He stayed with him to make sure Peter was alright when nothing was forcing him to stay. _He cleaned up puke. _Tony wasn’t so delusional to think Steve did it _for_ _him_, but he couldn’t help it when his heart fluttered, panic an unlikely cause this time.

“Thank you.” He said simply. He ducked his head, overwhelmed by Steve’s gaze. The two words weren’t nearly enough to express what Tony was feeling.

Steve was at his side a second later, hesitantly reaching for Tony’s hand. His thumb swept across his knuckles and paused. A _taptaptap _against the back of his hand.

“Anything for you.”

Tony spent the rest of the night, steadfastly keeping watch over Peter, thinking about the _taptaptap_ of Steve’s thumb against his skin.

+++

“_Steve_.”

Tony struggled under his grasp, but Steve continued to drag him out to the hallway.

“You need a break.”

“I _need _to stay with Peter.”

“You _need_ a shower,” Bucky said dryly. “His room is starting to get stuffy.”

Tony ran a hand over his tired face. He called May the morning after Peter came down with his mysterious illness, apologizing and offering to send a plane to pick her up from her Girl’s Vacation in Rome, free of charge of course. After May had declined—she had been properly worried but expressed her trust in Tony to take care for her nephew—and Bruce had confirmed that it was just a nasty virus, Tony decided the least he could do was make himself available to Peter’s every beck and call.

But he did agree with Bucky and Steve—he hadn’t left Peter’s room in the past two days, accepting food from whoever brought it—usually Steve—and only left Peter’s side to use the bathroom. His skin felt clogged and his undersuit was starting to get itchy. He didn’t even want to imagine what he smelled like to the super-soldiers.

“You need a break, Peter’s room needs to be aired out, and I’m not letting you back in there until you look less like a ghost.”

Steve had his Captain America face on, which meant Tony could either surrender or Steve would make him surrender.

“If anything happens, you call Bruce first, then me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and kicked open the door to Peter’s room, “I spent plenty of nights nursing Stevie back to health. I think I got this.”

Steve shoved him towards his bedroom and pushed him straight into the bathroom. He pressed Tony down until he was seated on the toilet lid, and started the shower. The room filled with steam, and Tony’s eyes were already having trouble staying open, but Steve re-entered the bathroom with a stack of new clothes and clean towels.

“Shower, food, then bed.” Steve ordered. Tony nodded, and starting going through the motions of undressing and showering. The door clicked shut behind him as he stepped into the hot stream of water. He stood there, leaning against the cool tiles as the hot water pelted into his back.

A knock at the door made his eyes fly open. He hadn’t even remembered closing them. He haphazardly finished cleaning himself and got dressed.

“Is this mine?” Steve was sitting on the edge of Tony’s bed, a red sweatshirt in hand. Tony shrugged and grabbed the sweatshirt, pulling it over his head.

“Any chance I can convince you to take a nap?”

As tired as Tony felt, he doubted his mind would let him fall asleep if he laid down right now. His thoughts kept drifting back to Peter. He shook his head. There was no way he was sleeping.

“I figured,” Steve said, “Put on your shoes. We’re going out.”

“I’d usually be down for drinks, Cap, but something tells me I’m not in a proper party mood.”

Steve rolled his eyes and dragged Tony through the compound and into the garage, pressing him into the passenger seat of his own car. Steve drove them into the city, the windows cracked open just a bit. Tony closed his eyes, soaking up the sun through the glass and relishing the feeling of fresh air hitting his face. When he opened his eyes again, the car was still and off, parked in a familiar parking complex.

“Why are we at the grocery store?”

“Food.” Steve said in the most obvious tone, and yeah, that would make sense.

Tony flipped up his hood as they entered, following Steve throughout the store. He picked up chicken stock, a few vegetables, all the basic ingredients for soup. He threw in a few bananas, a bag of rice, and crackers in their cart, along with vitamin c and zinc supplements. A warm feeling bloomed in Tony’s chest, unrelated to the arc reactor, and his hand reached up to _taptaptap_ at the metal casing through his sweatshirt.

It wasn’t until they were already home and Steve pulled out four bowls for soup that Tony realized he hadn’t been bombarded by anxious thoughts in the past few hours. He took two bowls of soup from Steve and followed him towards Peter’s room. Peter was still asleep, but the room was recently cleaned—Peter was wrapped in fresh sheets, the air smelled slightly of lemon scented cleaner, the garbage emptied and replaced with a new bag.

Bucky gladly accepted his bowl of soup and they ate in silence. Steve left the fourth bowl, a couple of bananas, and a bottle of water on Peter’s night stand, and ushered Tony out of the room and towards the communal living room.

Tony let himself be pushed onto the couch. His placidness was only surface level—his spine remained taut as he sat, his mind wracked with worry as his thoughts raced. He had been away from Peter for a couple hours, and even though he saw him for a couple minutes and was considerably less panicky than he was this morning, he still worried. He wondered if he had slept the whole time or if he had been woken up by another fit of coughs, if Bucky had taken his temperature or Bruce stopped in to take his vitals. He had to call May and update her, maybe see if she wanted to take him up on that offer to fly her back home—

“I can hear you thinking.”

Steve sat down next to him and dropped a hand over his shoulder. He started massaging his thumb in circles around the spot where the back of his neck met his shoulder. Tony scrubbed a hand over his face, but slumped into the couch cushions a little more.

“There’s a lot to think about.” He sighed. Steve continued to work his hand over a knot, the tightness in his shoulders starting to give. He blinked slowly, his eyelids growing heavier.

“You should try to sleep.”

Tony shook his head. “Can’t.”

“Just, try to close your eyes, Tony.” Steve said softly.

Tony would’ve protested, but he was already half asleep.

+++

Tony half registered voices quietly conversing above him. His side was pressed against a solid body, the soft thumps of a heartbeat underneath his ear. There was a hand carding through his hair and gently scraping against his scalp, and he let out a content sigh. The hand and voices stopped, and Tony frowned and furrowed his brow, his eyes still closed. He nudged his head a little and smiled when the hand returned to his hair a second later. He tucked himself into as small of a ball as he could, chasing the warmth of the body next to him, and slipped back into unconsciousness.

+++

When he woke up again, the room was considerably darker than when he fell asleep.

He blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. He gently lifted his head to see Steve, his mussed hair and peaceful features bathed in the soft blue light from the TV, passed out underneath him.

Tony’s mind struggled to recall how they got _here_, the edges of his mind still heavy with sleep. He pillowed his head back on Steve’s chest and let his eyes fall shut, too tired to get upset over it, and instead counted Steve’s heartbeats. It felt nice to be held, even better knowing it was Steve who was holding him. The past few days he felt like his mind and body were going a mile a minute, threatening catapult straight into the sun if he didn’t slow down. He felt grounded, physically and mentally. Steve would hold him down and stop his body from hitting the self-destruct button.

Like this, safe in Steve’s hold, his body threatened to slip back to sleep.

His eyes jolted open at the sound of sniffles.

His gaze instantly landed on Peter’s form on the settee perpendicular to them. He sat wrapped in a blanket and leaning gently against Bucky, his forehead pressed against the cool metal of his arm. They both were watching the TV with half-lidded eyes, a small smile on Peter’s face as he watched Harrison Ford shoot at a group of Ewoks.

“Pete—”

Peter twisted in his direction, his face barely poking out of the blanket. He was still a bit pale, but the sweat and tightness around his eyes had faded. He felt a weight lift from his chest when Peter smiled at him.

“Fever broke an hour ago,” Bucky voiced over Peter’s head, and then added, “I already called May and let her know.”

“I’m really sorry.” Peter said, “I didn’t mean to ruin spring break.”

“Kid, are you actually apologizing for getting sick?” Bucky chuckled and lightly nudged his shoulder.

Peter ducked his head, “I didn’t mean to worry you guys, is all. Thanks for taking care of me”

Bucky shook his head and waved him off. Tony let out a relieved sigh. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”

Peter gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m alright Mr. Stark. You can go back to sleep.”

Steve’s hand twitched against his back in a _taptaptap_. Tony nodded, and curled back into Steve’s chest. Steve inhaled deeply beneath him, and his hand gently ran along his spine, coaxing him back to sleep. The tension in his body was already melting away at the sight of Peter and Steve rubbing his back. With his mind at ease and his body comfortably wrapped in Steve’s warmth, he fell into a restful sleep.


	4. Thor

Thor spent most of his time off world, but when he did roam Earth, it was usually under catastrophic conditions. And if humanity wasn’t being threatened, he spent his time hanging out with Bruce, the two a seemingly unlikely pair, but best friends nonetheless.

It was sometimes hard to remember that he was technically an alien. Despite his towering appearance, he walked like a human. Although he sometimes spoke more like a medieval noble than a twentieth century man, he talked like a human. He certainly acted like a human—Tony’s respect for Thor only grew when he figured out that the Shakespearean cadence and blissfully ignorant attitude was Thor’s subtle way of messing with all of them. A passing glance would reveal nothing suspicious, but there was something slightly _off _about him. Air and gravity hung differently in his proximity. Animals raised their hackles around him. Babies stared; not because of his astounding frame, but an innate reaction to something new and foreign.

Tony couldn’t tell what he wanted more, to befriend or study him.

Ultimately, his curiosity had lost to friendship.

Tony was just donning the Iron Man suit as a bright technicolor beam of light flashed outside on the lawn, the branches on the distant trees blowing wildly in the gust of wind. The Bifrost dissipated and all that was left was Thor’s proud form stood atop burnt grass.

Tony couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“Hey Sparkles, long time no see.”

“Ah, Anthony,” Thor turned towards him with a pleased look on his face. “How have you been since we last met?”

It had been ages since Tony had spoken to Thor. A couple weeks, maybe a month at least. It was hard to keep track of nowadays, with most of his waking hours spent focusing on SI as the fiscal year came to an end, and on Avengers business whenever he had a spare moment. Right now was a rare day where his responsibilities towards both were a bearable load, meaning he had an extra couple of hours to dedicate to his own personal projects. Building a new Iron Man suit being the first on the top of his list.

“Oh, you know, they’ve been working me like a rented mule. But you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Tony waggled a suggestive eyebrow at him. Thor boomed out a hearty laugh and clapped a hand on his armored shoulder.

“I do miss our little talks. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Before you disappear, what do you say you go on a fly with me?” Tony knocked his gauntleted hand twice against his helmet, “Just finished up this one and I need to take it on a test run before it’s officially in commission—I love all my kids equally but this one takes the cake. How does Carol put it? Higher, further, faster, baby.”

“Of course. Perhaps this time you’ll be able to keep up.” Thor teased. Not a second later he took off, his hammer swinging wildly in front of him.

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

Tony took off after him. Thor was already a small dot in the distance, his form disappearing into the clouds. Friday helpfully displayed his current speed in the corner of the HUD, clocking in at just below Mach 2.

“Alright, Fri. Increase power to the back repulsors, let’s say by five percent increments for now.”

The suit jerked forward before stabilizing again, the streamline design of the suit cutting through the air like a bullet. He watched his speed jump from Mach 2 to 3, faster and faster, until he was at Mach 5. He let out a _whoop_ as he finally caught up to Thor, passing by with a whoosh of air. 

“Try to keep up,” Tony called out with a laugh.

Thor chased him through the air and Tony weaved and spun, dodging the god’s grasp. He slowly started getting the hang of piloting the new armor—he kept his arms closer to his sides as he flew linear paths, and after nearly breaking his neck in the whiplash of a too sharp turn, dialed down his movements until they were delicate twitches.

Their game of cat and mouse slowly morphed into a comfortable, almost leisurely flight, that was more of a dance than anything. They twirled through the clouds like ribbons, flying close enough that Tony could reach out and grab Thor if he wanted. The air was thin this high up, and even though the Iron Man suit was pressurized, Tony felt lightheaded in the best possible way. If he could, he’d spend all day up here.

As they got closer to the city they slowed their speed to double digits, almost feeling like crawling after spending the better half of an hour at supersonic speeds. They waved at gawking tourists and did loop-de-loops as they passed a school playground.

Thor dropped to the ground as they reached Central Park, making a b-line towards a hotdog vendor. Tony shook his head with a laugh. A few people had stopped in their tracks, eyes wide and hands fumbling for their phones as the Norse God of Thunder strolled passed. Majority of people though barely spared a glance, either locals used to the sight of superheroes or assuming the long haired man with a cape would ask for money as soon as they locked eyes.

“You plan on sharing any of that?” Tony asked as he landed next to him. Obligingly, Thor handed over a hot dog loaded with condiments from the pile in his arms.

Just as Tony started to eat, a finger tapped on his shoulder and someone cleared their throat. Tony looked over his shoulder to see two girls, college aged, looking at the two of them with sheepish but bright eyes.

“Sorry, we don’t mean to intrude but—”

“We’re big fans of the Avengers.”

“—really thankful that you guys are protecting us—”

“Would it be alright if we got a picture?”

Tony nodded and tried to smile without letting the mouthful of hot dog spill out of his mouth.

“It’s no intrusion,” Thor supplied, shifting so that he was crouched low enough to be in frame.

“Always happy to meet fans,” Tony added once he managed to swallow without choking himself. He stood next to Thor as one of the girls pulled out her phone and switched it to the front camera. Tony wrapped his arm around Thor’s shoulder and smiled brightly as the girl started taking rapid fire photos.

“Hold on, you have something—” Thor reached over and swiped his thumb over Tony’s bottom lip, pulling it away to reveal a smear of ketchup.

“What would I do without you?” Tony winked at him and turned back to the camera, giving them a few more photos without his face covered in condiments. The girls thanked them and ran off, talking with their heads bent close together in hushed, excited tones.

That seemed to open the floodgates. As they finished their food and walked through the park they were stopped four more times. It was barely a nuisance, as Tony had grown up with this kind of attention, but a few flashes of light in the of the corner of his eye meant the paparazzi were starting to gather, and as much as he loved meeting new people and making their day, he hated the paparazzi more.

“Well, looks like the vultures have found us,” Tony motioned to where a group of men with cameras were trailing them, “That’s our cue.”

“Shall we race back home?”

“I’m kind of tired,” Tony sighed, “Maybe you could carry me home?” He asked with a hopeful look on his face.

“Only if you pay,” Thor flexed his arm, “These arms are worth a lot.”

“I don’t know if you know, but I _am_ a billionaire.” Tony took the invitation and jumped into Thor’s arms bridal style. Thor, always a good sport, laughed and tightened his grip in warning, giving Tony only a second to snap his faceplate down before they were shooting off into the sky.

+++

Tony nearly choked on his coffee as Pepper slapped down a newspaper in front of him. It took him a few seconds to process the unimpressed look across her face, her arms crossed against her chest. Why was Pepper at the compound? Why did she have a physical copy of the paper? Most importantly, why was she glaring at him with the intensity of the sun?

She arched a delicate eyebrow at him, and his heart lurched into his throat.

She only gave him that look when he had seriously messed up and would be paying in at least three new pairs of shoes and one board meeting _in person_. His body finally caught up to his mind, and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He was caught flatfooted, his mind reeling over the past two weeks for anything that would have landed him in trouble.

Nothing came to mind, which only managed to make him more nervous.

“Hey, Pep! Pepper-pot. Pep in my step,” Sweat started gathering at his hairline, “What can I do for you? You look beautiful, might I add. Is that the new Hermès spring line pant suit?”

Pepper only bristled at that. “It’s Ralph Lauren,” She said tartly, and tapped a stiletto-shaped red nail against the newspaper in front of him, “And you can explain _this_ to me.”

Tony blinked, reading the headline, and then read it again.

_Sparks Fly Between God of Fertility and Tony Stark! _

“I’m just as surprised as you are. I thought Thor was the god of thunder this whole time.”

The subsequent smack on the head was, admittedly, well-deserved.

Tony stared at the grainy photos of him and Thor. They certainly weren’t the most compromising photos of him that had been published. In fact, they were extremely mild in comparison to his past front page scandals.

The first photo he wasn’t surprised to see. The two girls from yesterday smiled widely in the foreground, and behind them was Thor and Tony. Thor had Tony’s head cupped in his hand, his thumb over his lips. And, yeah, it didn’t _look_ quite as platonic as it was, but if anything it looked fond. Not seductive or erotic like the tabloids usually spun it.

The second photo was along the same lines—Thor holding Tony like newlyweds, both of them looking at each other in the middle of a laugh.

“You can’t be serious, Pep.” He skimmed through the article, reading about how _apparently_ he was in a relationship with Thor, something about Pepper breaking things off a few years ago because of his infidelity, an “inside source” gushing about their cosmically long distant romance—

“I’m serious, Tony. You need to shut this down. No more headlines or front page photos.” Pepper said.

“If anything I’m doing them a favor. Half the tabloids in New York would tank without me. Think of all the jobs I’m creating.”

“_Tony_.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “Fine. No more long walks on the beach with Thor. Got it.”

Pepper seemed satisfied for the moment, and let out a sigh, “Good. I see any more scandals this week and you’re presenting at the next board meeting for me.”

Tony shuddered. He would definitely make good on this promise.

+++

Tony was trying. 

He was really, really trying.

Even though paparazzi never came near the compound, he avoided Thor for three days straight. When he did leave the compound he dragged a reluctant Carol and Rhodey with him to grab dinner, mostly because he knew no one was crazy enough to shove a camera in their faces with Carol at their side, but also half hoping that if they did get pictures then the dating rumors would be squelched.

See! Tony Stark can hang out with someone and it’s _not _romantic or sexual! Tony Stark is capable of being just friends with people!

Tony Stark was technically a genius in the academic sense, but he could admit that sometimes he had a lapse of judgement when it came to interpersonal relationships.

People had taken to social media to theorize that he had been on a double date, because of course he picked the two people on the team that were _actually dating, _and of course Thor was seen out with Bruce in the city around the same time, and of course it was all an elaborate plan so they could dine in peace.

Tony was _trying_.

“There must be _something_ you can do,” Steve said from the couch, not even looking up from his book. Tony shook his head and paced across his workshop.

He had tried going out with his friends, and that had backfired tremendously. He tried hiding out in the compound, but that only left the tabloids to their own imaginations and “inside sources”, and that was _definitely _not an improvement. It was like anything he did led back to him dating Thor. He could blink and somehow, someone would say it was because he was madly in love with Thor and make a headline of it.

At this point, there was only one thing left to try.

“I need a boyfriend!” Tony exclaimed.

That made Steve look up from his book. He stared at him with a furrowed brow for a long moment before he ventured, “Do I even want to know?” 

“I’ll give them what they want and then throw it back in their faces. That should keep them off me for a while.” Tony explained, “I can date someone for a few weeks and really play it up, and then have a very public, very secondhand embarrassing, explosive breakup that not even the seediest reporters would want to touch with a ten-foot long pole.”

“Isn’t that a bit…melodramatic?”

“You’re a strategist, Cap. Sometimes you gotta fight fire with fire.” He plopped down on the opposite end of the couch and swung his feet onto Steve’s legs. “I just need a willing boyfriend. Or girlfriend. A date mate. I’m not picky.”

Steve’s hands came to rest on Tony’s ankles, and for a second he considered asking him. They got along well enough, more than well enough actually. If there was anyone who could make this situation fun, it would be Steve. They already spent enough time together, it wouldn’t disrupt their schedules. And maybe a small part of him wanted to hold Steve’s hand out in public for the whole world to see, to take him out to art museums and not have to pretend like he was staring at the painting when he was really staring at Steve, to invite him out to galas as more than a plus one, to dance and go home with him and not go their separate ways at the end of the night—

One look at Steve’s face and the fantasy crumbled away.

He had a funny look on his face, like he wasn’t quite comfortable with his plan, like maybe he wanted to say something but because he was a nice guy he wouldn’t.

Plus, he wasn’t trying to drag Steve’s name through the mud with him. Half of America would be on his front door step if he were to even lay a finger on America’s golden boy.

Yeah. Asking Steve was a big no-no.

That only left a handful of people. He couldn’t ask Pepper, that was an even bigger no-no for separate reasons. Rhodey and Carol were obviously not a choice. Clint was a big no, no explanation needed. Natasha would never agree unless his life were in danger. Bruce, well, as annoying as they were, he wasn’t trying to unleash the Hulk on a bunch of paparazzi. And he wasn’t quite on that level with the other Avengers to ask them to fake date him.

That only left one person.

“Thor.”

Steve’s eyes snapped up to him, looking even more confused.

“I thought you were trying to convince people you’re _not_ with Thor.”

The more he thought about it, the more confident he was of his plan. At this point, he doubted he could change the minds of the public of his relationship with Thor, so he might as well take advantage of it. Instead of potentially creating more rumors that he was cheating on Thor or purposely trying to cover up their relationship, he would lean into it, validate and indulge them, and as soon as they got comfortable, he’d definitively end things.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“The people’s minds are already made up. I’m just running with it.”

“You can’t just force Thor to be your fake boyfriend for a month.” Steve argued.

True.

“Friday, can you patch Thor through?” Tony asked, much to Steve’s apparent dismay. Before he could argue, the familiar blue eyes and joyful face of Thor appeared on screen.

“I was wondering when my beloved would call.” Thor said wistfully with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Tony winked back at him, “Funny you say that. I have a proposition for you.” He rolled off the couch and knelt on one knee. He cleared his throat before meeting Thor’s amused eyes, “What do you say we make things official and stick it to the man?”

Thor nodded his head solemnly, stifling a laugh, “It would be an honor Anthony.”

+++

Dating Thor, real or not real, was probably the most fun he had in a while.

Or maybe it was just dating _someone_. Admittedly, it had been some time since he’d gone on a date, let alone dated someone. When he took a client out to a luncheon he brought Thor along, who swept Mr. and Mrs. Pavelski off their feet, and somehow made the business lunch _fun_ and productive. When Thor travelled to New Mexico to visit friends, Tony tagged along and ended up spending the weekend picking apart Jane Foster’s head and enjoying a comfortable back and forth with Darcy. Whenever he wanted to go out, he had someone to keep him company _and _keep him safe. He didn’t have to worry about being turned down when he asked for someone to join him for dinner or see a dumb movie.

He wasn’t _lonely_ anymore.

Thor’s kindness and enthusiastic participation didn’t stop once they were out of the limelight. After a particularly long day, Tony came home to the rest of the team gathered in the common room, spread across the sofas and floor, blankets and pillows distributed, watching a movie. Tony felt dead tired, he didn’t have the energy to walk to his room and collapse into his bed, and he was feeling overworked and a little needy for warm, nice, human interaction. He blamed it on his brain, half on autopilot at this point, when he dropped next to Thor on the sofa and curled into his side.

Things came to a screeching halt in Tony’s mind and he froze up, realizing what he had just done. Thor would surely push him off, they weren’t out in public and on display. He was overstepping a boundary, crossing a line, showing how desperate and pathetic he was, that he’d accept affection even if it was a fabricated lie.

But Thor only wrapped an arm around Tony without sparing him a glance, eyes remained glued to the movie in front of them.

Tony stilled, waiting to see if Thor would change his mind, or someone would mention it, but minutes passed and no one said anything. He relaxed further into Thor’s embrace, knowing that it was going to be a problem he would to have to acknowledge soon, brushing it off for his future self. This wasn’t real, he shouldn’t get to use to it—it all didn’t matter in the moment.

Everything was fine.

+++

Everything was not fine.

It had been three weeks of intense dating. Three weeks of public outings. Three weeks for Tony to grow attached. Not necessarily to Thor, not that he wasn’t a catch, but to the feelings of being wanted by someone, being important to someone. It wasn’t rocket science—he didn’t need a psychologist to tell him about his crippling daddy issues and how that effected his interpersonal relationships. Even if it was fake, his brain couldn’t exactly differentiate the feelings inside his head.

On top of all that, Steve apparently had some opinions on the matter.

“You don’t have to pretend while you’re home.”

Tony paused, unable to see Steve’s face from underneath the car he was working on, but from his tone, even as calmly as he tried to sound, he could tell he was irritated.

“I go full method, Steve. Don’t judge my process,” he pushed himself out from under the car and wiped his greasy hands on his jeans, “You’re just jealous you don’t get to snuggle up with a god every day.”

Tony was met by silence. He looked at Steve, who was across the workshop, only a few steps away from the door. His hands were settled on his belt, but he might as well have had them crossed with how rigid he was. An emotion flashed across his face, too fast for Tony to place it, and he schooled his features into something more diplomatic, like he was talking to the press or a government official.

Suddenly, Tony felt the need to apologize. He wasn’t sure what for, as long as Steve would stop looking at him like that. His stomach churned something uncomfortable, the space between them feeling more like an ocean than the width of the room.

He realized that the last time Steve had been down here was when he decided to kick off this whole fake dating plan. All his time that usually belonged to Steve had been redistributed to Thor, and every time Steve saw Tony and Thor together, that strange look would cross his face and he would hightail it out of there before Tony could get a word in.

It had been _three weeks_ since he and Steve had talked for more than a few seconds, and Tony was just realizing how much he desperately missed him.

Guilt settled heavily behind his arc reactor. 

Maybe Steve hadn’t noticed. He probably had better things to do than hang out with Tony on his ratty couch.

“Hey, do you want to help me teach DUM-E how to write the rest of the alphabet?” Tony blurted out, “After you taught him how to write his name he’s been practicing,” he continued, the heat rising up his neck as Steve kept staring, “He can hold a pencil without breaking it and, um, he doesn’t tear the paper anymore, so,” he trailed off.

“I don’t want to keep you from Thor,”

Okay. He definitely noticed.

“Nope. I’m free tonight and I want to spend it with you and DUM-E. Unless you’re busy?”

“Nope.”

“Great.”

They stared at each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. Luckily, DUM-E chirped from his charging port, effectively breaking the strange tension between them. Tony started gathering pencils and scrap paper while Steve made his way to his spot on the couch. While his back was still to Steve he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He couldn’t remember the last time things felt awkward between them, if things had ever been awkward. Steve had reasons to be a little short with Tony, though. He had ignored him, his best friend, for three weeks, almost a month. Anyone in their right mind would be upset. So Tony just had to make it up to him. Show him that he didn’t actually forget about him, he had just been busy.

He turned back around, greeted by the sight of Steve shaking DUM-E’s claw and talking to him in low tones, a fond smile on his face.

Tony couldn’t help his own fond expression, the previous tension in the air fading away.

By the end of the night DUM-E was scribbling the three of their names over and over.

+++

At movie night, Steve came to a halt as he walked into common area, eyes glued on Thor’s arm wrapped around Tony’s shoulders. Tony patted the seat next to him where Steve sat every movie night. Steve eventually unfroze and hesitantly joined them on the sofa. Tony was hyperaware of Steve’s presence next to him, only because he sat rigidly for the entire three hours, barely shifting position. The rest of the team slowly trickled out, back to their rooms during the second movie, until it was just the two of them left.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“_Steve_.”

“It’s nothing.”

“So something _is_ bothering you.”

“_Tony_.”

“Are you—did I upset you?” Tony asked. Steve finally met his eyes, obviously holding something back.

“I’m not—you did nothing wrong. I’m just…working through some things.” He said with a sigh. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

With that, Steve left. 

+++

The next movie night Steve skipped completely. Tony tried to ignore Bucky glaring daggers into the side of his head.

+++

A week later, Tony and Thor kissed.

They were fighting a space beetle slash whale, a _cosmic parasite _according to Thor, struggling to keep it from eating half of New York. Twice, _twice_ Tony had been swallowed by the parasite and soaked in its green acidic stomach juices just to be thrown back up when Steve or Thor landed a hard punch to its stomach.

“If I get eaten _one more time_,” Tony half crawled, half dragged himself away from the toothy maw of the parasite, “I’m tapping out. Hawkeye, you’re in.”

“Hawkeye, stay on perimeter watch. If you see any civilians let Widow or Falcon know.” Steve ordered, “Iron Man, we need you here. The others don’t have armor or a healing factor to protect from the acid.”

“Fine, fine.” Tony mumbled.

He gathered his bearings and shot back into the sky, keeping a wide berth around the parasite, out of reach of its tendrils. He scanned for any weaknesses on its outer armor, but came up with nothing. It didn’t even have eyes he could aim for; it’s face a smooth plane with a mouth hole.

“Thor, any ideas on how to get rid of this thing?”

“The Átta will not leave until it has consumed the core of your earth. We must defeat it in battle to end this.”

Tony shot a repulsor blast at the back of its head, not even making a dent. “It’s impossible to get through its skin. We’ll be here all week trying to take it down.”

That much was obvious. Most of them couldn’t get close enough in fear of getting swallowed to help. They had tried Steve’s shield, Thor’s hammer, Clint’s arrows. The parasite was impenetrable, and had a one track mind, unwilling to be distracted or led astray from its goal.

“Tony,” Steve’s voice came through their private channel, “I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Lay it on me, Cap. I’ll do anything as long as I get to go home and take a _long_ shower after this.”

“Let it eat you again.”

Tony paused, physically stilled in the air. He twisted around until he could see where Steve was standing on the ground, looking back up at him.

“I’m sorry, I thought you said to _let it eat me again_.”

“We can’t get through its exoskeleton and you—”

“—have the armor. Yeah, no, I get that.” Tony sighed, “You _so_ owe me, Rogers.”

He circled around the parasite once more, giving him enough room to have a running start. Steve and Thor goaded it, getting just close enough for it to reach out its arms and open its mouth, and Tony shot towards it.

Once he was five feet from its gaping mouth, Tony cut the power to his thrusters and switched to his unibeam as he flew into its mouth for a third time, and split the parasite in half from the inside out.

He came to an abrupt stop as he crashed into Thor’s arms, covered in ropey, green acid. He looked back at the two halves of the parasite, it’s legs twitched for a few more seconds before it finally stopped moving.

“That’s a nice cross section.” Tony mumbled.

“You did wonderful, Anthony!”

“Thanks. It was Cap’s idea.” Tony said as he started removing his helmet. “Hey, help me out of this? I think the acid is starting to eat through my armor I’m only sort of fond of my limbs.”

Thor, unfamiliar with the emergency releases on the side of his armor, began to strip pieces of his armor off. Tony winced as his armor was ripped apart, thinking about the hours he spent on this particular design. He sighed. Better the armor than him.

He stepped out of his boots and tip toed to a spot clear of acid, not wanting to burn the soles of his feet. He stood next to Thor, admiring his handy work, sliding his gaze from the parasite’s dead body to Steve and further to where a group of civilians and news reporters were standing a few blocks away, cameras out to capture a glimpse at the creature and Avengers milling around.

“Seems we’ve gathered a crowd.” Thor said, an eyebrow raised in a silent question. Tony’s eyes slid back to Thor’s gaze. At this proximity he had to tilt his head up to meet his eyes.

“Come here, Sparkles. Let’s give the people what they want.”

Thor nodded, his hand coming up to cup the back of Tony’s neck. Without preamble, no exploratory fingers or peppered kisses across his face, Thor leaned down and pressed his lips against Tony’s. He kissed him shortly, electric and wet, barely enough time for Tony’s eyes to flutter shut and lean into it. He could practically hear the camera lenses shuttering at an impossible speed.

He pulled away and gave Thor a wink before he went about collecting the pieces of his armor that he could salvage—his helmet, boots, a gauntlet. He went to call Steve to see if he’d help him lug his suit back to the Quinjet, but when he looked back up at where he was standing, no one was there.

He shrugged his shoulders, but couldn’t quite shake the crawling feeling of guilt tickling the edge of his arc reactor.

+++

“When is that,” Bucky waved at tablet in Tony’s hand, a picture of him and Thor locking lips shining brightly back at him, “going to end?”

Tony blinked, caught off guard this early in the morning. He hadn’t expected anyone to be awake at this hour—he usually wouldn’t be if he had gone to bed, but he spent the whole night trying to recover and rework his armor.

“Couple of days.” Tony answered, poking at the coffee machine in hope that it would brew faster, “Why, are you trying to be his rebound?”

“For a genius you sure are daft as fuck.”

Tony jolted at that, but when he turned around to ask what exactly _that_ meant, Bucky was already gone.

+++

When Tony showed up to the next movie night, Steve apparently another no-show, he bypassed the common area and instead headed toward the gym.

Predictably, Steve was there, his back to Tony, beating on a punching bag like it had just insulted his mother.

“I think I just made Bucky’s hit list.”

Steve jumped, like he hadn’t heard Tony enter, but continued his rhythmic punches without pause.

“I’m pretty sure we’re all on that list. My name is on there at least twice.” Steve said.

Tony circled around so he was facing him head on. Steve’s gaze remained fixed on the punching bag in front of him. Tony huffed.

So that’s how this was going to go.

“So, any reason you’re skipping movie night for the third time this week?” Tony asked nonchalantly, and that had Steve glancing at him. As Tony approached him, Steve slowed his punches to a stop, but kept the bag in-between them.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been making you uncomfortable the past few weeks,” Tony started. There was no reason to drag this out any longer than it had to be. “I mean, even without Barnes’ death glares, it’s pretty obvious I’ve been doing something to make you avoid me.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just—it’s just strange to see you and Thor together, I guess.” Steve admitted. Tony narrowed his eyes at him, because if Steve was avoiding him because he had a problem with him being— “Not in _that_ way!” Steve amended, “That would be hypocritical of me. What I mean is it’s weird to see two of my teammates dating.”

“Oh,”

Tony could have listed at least two weirder things they encountered just this past week or mentioned Scott and Hope, or Carol and Rhodey, but he decided to let it go. Mostly because he was still trying to decide if Steve had just softly come out to him.

Steve ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck, “And I guess I was a little jealous. I’ve missed you.”

Tony’s heart fluttered at that. When he looked at Steve, he saw no anger, no disgust in his eyes. His hands were red, raw from too many nights spent here in the gym when he should have been spending time with the team, with _him_. His big shoulders were hunched, rounded in a sheepish display.

He just, he looked like he missed him.

“You could’ve just said that, you big lug.” Tony gently shouldered Steve. “I missed you, too.” He cleared his throat, “Good news is that me and Thor are ending things in a few days, so you can have me all to yourself.”

Tony couldn’t tell if he imagined the small smile that spread across Steve’s face.

+++

“Showtime.” Tony whispered under his breath.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see a poorly hidden paparazzi in the bushes, hiding like the animal they were. Tony had workshopped countless ideas for this moment; they could have a physical brawl in Times Square, a messy break at the top of the Eiffel Tower, a press conference turned screaming match in front of all the press.

In the end, they both agreed that it was only fitting to end things where it all started.

So here they were, in Central Park, about to end their one-month old relationship. 

Thor gave him a near imperceptible nod.

“I can’t take the distance anymore, Thor. Even when you’re here it feels like your mind is realms away.” Tears started to well up in Tony’s eyes. Thor clutched his hands and held them close to his chest.

“My sweet Anthony, I’m begging you to give us one more chance.”

Bright lights flashed from the bush next to them.

Tony barely managed to morph his smile into a grimace.

+++

“I heard about the breakup.”

Tony twisted enough to glance over his shoulder, greeted by the view of Steve leaning against his doorframe.

Steve glanced around, scanning the impersonal room before his gaze returned to Tony with a playful grin. “Must’ve been pretty bad if you’re hanging out in here.”

It wasn’t like Tony had fallen in love with Thor in their brief time together, and they weren’t even together in any sense of a romantic relationship. But he was inexplicably going through the motions of a real breakup. If anything, he thought, he had grown comfortable with going through the motions of the day with someone at his side. That was mostly his fault, though. Instead of leaving it in the public eye he had been greedy, pathetically attached, to false devotion and the guise of intimacy and he had taken and taken, only to be cut off cold turkey.

So, yeah. Tony was feeling a little raw. If he wanted to mope around in bed at 7 in the evening that was his business.

Well, his and now Steve’s. 

“Are you going to paint my nails and tell me there are other fish in the sea, Cap?”

“If that’s what you want,” Steve pulled out two spoons and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream from behind his back. “Or we could exact revenge. You could go to the prom with Chase and show Thor what he’s missing.”

Tony snorted, “Has Clint been subjecting you to his personal movie library?”

“_Drive Me Crazy_ wasn’t that bad.” Steve crossed the room and held one of the two spoons out for Tony. “I think I have a few cardboard boxes laying around if you need help packing up Thor’s stuff.” He continued.

Tony rolled his eyes but extracted himself from his blanket cocoon and accepted the pint—_Raspberry Thorbet_.

“You sure know how to help a guy forget his ex,” Tony patted the space next to him on his bed. “Well, come on. I can’t get over my heart wrenching break up unless I watch at least two romcoms.”

Steve situated himself on the left side of Tony’s bed, maintaining a respectable distance between them, while Friday queued up _He’s Just Not That Into You_.

“You’re killing me, Steve. There’s no way I’m reaching across the Grand Canyon every twenty seconds to give you a bite of this,” Tony waved the sorbet in the air, “I thought you were my shoulder to cry on?”

To Tony’s surprised, Steve scooted over without any more goading. A second later and he was laying with his face on a super-soldier chest and had a strong arm curled around him. Tony blinked, and after Steve had stopped moving he situated himself into a more comfortable position. He squirmed, and finally settled as Steve’s thumb landed over his hip with a _taptaptap_.

“Don’t yell at me when your arm falls asleep.” Tony mumbled.

Steve only snorted, reaching for a spoonful of sorbet, the rest of his attention focused on the screen in front of them.

Steve’s arm remained wrapped around him throughout the movie. Tony’s own melancholy mood was forgotten as he provided his own social commentary about dating, and Steve theorized that the blonde woman in the movie was played by Natasha while undercover. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...hi. Yikes. Sorry that update took so long. Life was kicking my ass, midterms and November due dates snuck up on me - all that jazz. I promise the next chapter wont take two weeks to be uploaded!   
Thanks for reading!


	5. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love on the last chapter 💕This one is a short one, mostly due to Bucky's efficiency.

“He really enjoys these things.”

Tony didn’t bother to break his gaze as Bucky joined him at the bar. He sipped his drink and continued to track Steve’s form as he dodged and weaved between patrons, offering an apologetic smile as he passed by hopeful guests, eager to get a word in with Captain America.

Tony snorted. “From where I’m standing it looks like he can’t wait to leave.”

“Maybe,” Bucky paused. “He doesn’t care for rich snobs or the press crawling around with cameras.”

Tony nodded. He’d long ago learned that most benefit dinners and charity galas were nothing more than a show. A business deal. Majority of the attendees weren’t there out of the goodness of their hearts. The one’s that dabbled in philanthropy were few and far between, people only wanted to look good, not do good. They wanted to shake hands with the right person in front of the press while handing over checks that barely made a dent in their pockets, all for some good PR to appeal to investors.

“He doesn’t like being paraded around like a monkey in a suit selling war bonds again.” Bucky continued.

Tony turned towards him and was met with a serious face, not that his face was usually anything other than serious. Tony cringed, wondering if that’s what Bucky, what _Steve_, thought he was doing; dressing him up to the nines and using his all-American-patriot charm to squeeze a couple more dollars out of people.

That hadn’t been Tony’s intent at all. If anything, it was a purely selfish act. Steve was better company than any random date would be; he could always count on him to somehow magically swoop to his side and save him the mental power of trying to talk his way out of an awkward conversation, or instead of entertaining himself at the bar with too many glasses of whiskey that would lead to a PR nightmare, he could watch Steve charm the pants off every person in the room with just a smile.

“He does like supporting a cause he believes in,” the corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched upward in a half smile, “but what he really comes for is the dancing.”

Tony arched an eyebrow at him. “You might want to book an appointment with your eye doctor, Sniper Eyes. I haven’t seen Steve dance once since I’ve known him.”

He’d seen Steve turn down and refuse plenty of dances before, albeit with genuine regret. He didn’t even know if Steve could dance—the super soldier serum helped his reflexes and Steve was a fast learner; certainly if he wanted to dance, even if he didn’t know how to, he would pick it up fast enough to be flying around the ballroom like a pro.

“He wants to. Just hasn’t found the right dance partner.” Bucky shrugged, taking a slow sip from the tumbler in his metal hand.

“He’s got all of New York to choose from.”

“Right,” Bucky finished his drink and placed it down on the bar. “Wanna dance?”

Tony only raised an eyebrow in return, but Bucky laughed and dragged him by the waist towards the center of the room. Bucky’s metal arm grasped his own, his flesh and blood hand pressed to the small of his back. They were pressed incredibly close, their faces only inches apart. It was hardly a dance—they swayed back and forth for the most part, an intimate moment to a slow jazz song that had Tony’s head swimming in brief confusion at the whole thing.

Here, Tony could see it. He could see a flash of the Bucky Barnes his father and Steve remembered and talked about so fondly. He was charming without even saying a word, and there was confidence in every step he took as he brought them around the dancefloor. Tony almost melted in his arms, not quite swooning, but completely entranced in the complete change of character in the man. This wasn’t James Barnes or the Winter Soldier. This was Bucky.

“Keep staring like that and you’ll have a guy thinking you’re in love with him.” Bucky laughed quietly, flashing a bright smile down at Tony.

“You wish, Sergeant. It takes a lot more than one dance to win this mechanical heart.”

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed with a thoughtful look on his face. As the song ended Bucky held Tony close for another moment, their hands still intertwined as Bucky led him off the dance floor and towards a quiet corner of the room.

“You’re a good dancer.” Bucky said, eyes sweeping across the room. Tony leaned against the wall and shrugged.

“I can do a lot more than a two-step. Daddy dearest made sure of that when he sent me to boarding school.” Tony let out a short laugh devoid of humor. He shook his head, as if to physically rid himself of the memory of Howard. “I could show you sometime. Whatever you want—waltz, tango, square dancing—I’ve mastered them all.” He offered his most blinding smile. Bucky turned back towards him and shook his head, taking a step closer to Tony.

“That’s alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

Tony realized that there was barely any space between them again.

Another step. A hand on his hip. He wondered if he had missed something, the dissonance between their casual conversation and the downright _seductive _body language Bucky was displaying. Maybe the decades of brainwashing and limited human contact and connection had messed up Bucky’s social perceptions. He couldn’t blame Bucky for assuming, though. He was more tactile and flirty than the average man, a symptom of being raised in the public eye by a business man who lacked a certain charm and finesse in his later years. 

Bucky’s hand squeezed his hip. He cocked his head back slightly, his eyes half lidded, a wolfish grin spread across his face. He made an attractive sight.

“Anyway, I’m sure Steve will appreciate your fancy dancing more than me.”

“…What?”

Tony, raking his eyes over Bucky appreciatively, stopped abruptly.

“Look, Stevie is smart but he’s also a dumbass. You two have that in common,” Bucky sighed. Tony nodded reflexively, still trying to catch up, as Bucky continued. “Sometimes he needs a little push, ya know?” Another step. Their knees knocked gently together and Bucky’s other hand reached up to stroke Tony’s cheek.

“What?”

“Did you know that Steve gets real jealous?” Their noses were brushing at this point, and Tony shivered, cool metal fingertips gently grazing the back of his neck. “He gets as green as the Hulk with envy. Doesn’t really like it when other people mess with what’s his.”

And then Bucky’s lips were on his. For a second it was just lips pressed together, Bucky making no further move to deepen it. Only when Tony finally caught up and pressed back did it turn from a brief touch to downright sinful. Bucky kissed like he fought—ruthlessly, like his life depended on it. He bit Tony’s bottom lip, eliciting a moan from him before he licked his way inside of Tony’s mouth. Their tongues twisted, Bucky’s running across the top of Tony’s mouth, sending a shiver down his spine. He pulled away in favor of nipping down his jaw and neck, his hand running along his ribs, the other fisted in his hair, pulling his head back to bare his neck as if they weren’t in the middle of a crowded room. He sucked a spot right below Tony’s ear, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin before returning back to his mouth. Tony moaned something whiny and high in the back of his throat as Bucky wedged a leg between Tony’s thighs.

They separated, both panting heavily and looking more disheveled than a minute ago.

“Well, that was unexpected. But admittedly hot,” Tony said after a beat, straightening his tie back into place while scanning the room for any lingering eyes. Luckily, no one had seemed to clock their brief heated moment, all eyes turned in different directions.

All of them except for a pair of wide blue eyes from across the room.

“Shit," Tony cursed, "Steve.”

He couldn’t look away. Steve’s eyebrows remained raised in shock, his mouth hanging open slightly. Even from a distance Tony could see a pink blush spreading across his cheeks. As his eyes moved from Tony to Bucky, the look of shock was replaced by a series of rapid emotions—confusion, betrayal, disbelief, before settling on something adjacent to anger. Steve’s mouth snapped shut, eyes hardened, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side.

Bucky clapped his hands together. “That should do it.”

Tony finally ripped his eyes off of Steve to look at Bucky, who looked pleased with himself, apparently oblivious or unbothered to his best friend’s current state.

“What?”

“Do _not_ make me spell it out for you, Stark.” Bucky groaned, “I’ve got a lot of money riding on this and I am _not_ losing to Sam.”

Tony stood there in stunned silence.

“Anyway, I think I’m going to head home.” Bucky grasped his shoulder and squeezed, “If you break his heart, I’ll personally make sure all your coffee is decaffeinated for the rest of your life.”

And with that, Bucky left.


	6. Steve

Steve screwed his eyes closed, roughly rubbing at the corners with his knuckles as the image of Bucky and Tony flashed behind his eyelids.

Maybe Bucky had grown tired of Steve’s pissing and complaining after all these years, maybe he wanted to see what all the fuss was about—Steve couldn’t exactly blame him. He’d spent years wondering what it would be like to be the object of Tony’s affections. Tony was a passionate man—anyone could tell that just by looking at his work at SI, with the Avenger— and it wasn’t hard to imagine that passion extending to his love life.

He didn’t exactly have to imagine, though, with the way Tony was making his way through the Avengers.

The memory of Thor dipping Tony in a heated kiss in the middle of battle and Bucky not an hour ago pressing Tony against a wall with a possessive hand around his neck barraged his mind once again.

It wasn’t like he had claim over Tony. No, he only had himself to blame. He knew it would have been stupid to assume that he was the only person attracted to Tony, but a part of him always hoped he would have been brave enough to be the first to admit his feelings.

Apparently, he was the last one.

He loosened his tie and sunk down onto the couch. He willed his mind silent for a few moments, trying to focus on emptying his head of anymore thoughts, only for a deep curl of jealousy to wrap around him in an uncomfortable hug.

“You’re home early.”

Steve’s eyes snapped open, finding Bucky’s dark silhouette emerging from the elevator. His bowtie hung loose around his neck, sleeves rolled up haphazardly around his elbows. He carefully didn’t read too much into his friend’s debauched appearance. He deserved that peace of mind.

Steve shrugged. “Not really my thing.” Casually, because he couldn’t help himself, he asked, “Did you—did Tony get home alright?”

Bucky, already in the kitchen and digging through the fridge, replied without missing a beat. “Yeah, just dropped him off at his workshop.”

With an apple in hand, Bucky plopped down on the opposite end of the couch, the sound of him crunching happily on his snack and being _loudly_ unfazed by the elephant in the room the only sound between them.

“I didn’t know,” Steve said suddenly, “That you and Tony—that you felt that way,” He drew in a shuddering breath, “I wouldn’t have, ya know…” he trailed off.

Why would Tony Stark, a man who could have anyone, want him? The more he thought about it, the more Tony and Bucky made sense. With Bucky spending hours at a time in Tony’s lab for maintenance on his arm they must have gotten around to talking. It wasn’t a coincidence that the two men he was closest to had similar personalities and shared life experience. They lived almost paralleled lives—Tony’s sharp wit liken to a firecracker, whereas Bucky’s was a low, but equally scorching flame; one man’s penchant for science and the other’s marvel at it; the arc reactor and the metal arm; Obadiah Stane and Hydra.

Steve couldn’t blame him if he was a little in love with Tony.

The jealousy dissipated, leaving him with a heavy feeling of defeat. “I was yapping your ear off for months. God, Buck. You should have just told me.”

Bucky seemed to consider him for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “Well, this isn’t how I thought this was going to go.”

Steve nodded solemnly. “You and me both.”

“No, I mean,” Bucky paused briefly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m sorry, Steve. I shouldn’t have kissed Tony.”

Steve shook his head. “It’s…fine.”

If Bucky wanted to kiss Tony—his partner? Boyfriend? —then that was his right, regardless of Steve’s feelings. Would it have been nice to have a little heads up? For sure. Was he emotionally hurt? Maybe just a little. And if he was jealous in _any way_, well, that was a problem for himself to deal with. 

Steve offered a weak smile. Thankfully, Bucky only shot him a questioning glance and continued to snack on his apple.

There was undeniably _something _special between him and Tony. He was his own special category in his mind, a mix of new feelings attached to his name, separate from friends or family. It was incomparable. It was different than his friendship with Sam or his bond with Bucky. If anything it was more appropriate to say it was adjacent to what he felt for Peggy. Equally as important, but somehow _more_.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath.

_God_. He loved Tony.

And there was nothing he could do about it now.

“Hey, Steve?” Steve looked up towards the kitchen where Bucky had moved to dispose his apple core, his jacket gathered in his arms. He smiled gently at Steve, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Just talk to him.”

Steve must have looked as confused as he felt because Bucky fixed him with a patient stare. “I think half of New York knows about your crush on Stark. You think it’s time maybe someone clue him in on it too?”

Bucky paused to give his shoulder a squeeze before he disappeared down the hallway towards his room. 

“Goodnight, Buck.” he called after him.

Steve retreated to his own room, deliberately not looking at the elevator as he passed, and methodically started getting ready for bed, focusing his restless mind on unbuttoning every button of his shirt, and brushing each individual tooth. He slid under his covers and turned over a few times until he ended up flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

With an audible sigh of defeat, unable to keep his mind occupied, he let his thoughts drift to Tony.

He already had his friendship—why couldn’t that be enough?

It had been a tentative acquaintance for the longest time. He spent years of navigating a tumultuous relationship before he gained Tony’s full trust. After his more romantic feelings started to develop he didn’t bother letting them come to surface out of fear of losing a friend. If he would have told Tony that he loved him and the sentiment wasn’t shared, well, he wasn’t sure if it would be worth potentially endangering their friendship.

Even worse, what if he did finally tell Tony how he felt about him and Tony just…treated him like everyone else. His feelings ran too deep for something casual. If he kissed him as easily as he kissed Clint, Nat, or Thor, he imagined it wouldn’t be a dissimilar feeling to dismissing his feelings. Not that Steve thought Tony would ever be careless with his emotions on purpose, but Tony would jump to one night stands or a quick fling before ever entertaining the idea of a long term relationship.

Steve would be so lucky to even have a night. But he wanted more. He wanted multiple nights. And the following mornings. He wanted the one-hour lunch breaks between meetings and conference calls in his office, the evening dinner on his birthday, the quiet moments on the Quinjet after a long battle. Any and every moment Tony was willing to share with him, he wanted.

Steve huffed and rolled onto his side, fingers mindlessly fiddling with a loose thread in his pillowcase. It wasn’t like any of that mattered anymore. Tony was with Bucky, and Steve’s ship had sailed.

World’s leading authority on waiting too long _indeed_.

But he couldn’t keep _lying _to Tony. Because that’s what it was starting to feel like. Lying. He couldn’t help but feel like he was taking advantage of Tony when he let him fall asleep on his chest, or curled an arm around him. Friendly gestures he used to throw around without thought now held so much weight. The scales felt tipped on his side—he couldn’t help but feel like he was getting more out of their relationship than Tony. It was bordering on deceitful.

Tony would be mad. Maybe offended. For good reason, too. Tony wasn’t _his_. But he deserved to know, he deserved an explanation. Bucky didn’t seem to mind or find his attraction a threat, which he shouldn’t, because he would never try to undermine their relationship despite his own feelings, so maybe Tony wouldn’t either. Or at least, Bucky would help smooth things over, with Tony being more inclined to listen to him.

It was decided, he drowsily thought. He had to tell him. If his reaction tonight wasn’t proof enough that his feelings were starting to get out of hand, then he at least owed Tony the truth. And maybe it would help Steve move on if he laid it all out there. He’d been holding onto this secret for years. It was time he let it go.

_Whatever _the outcome, he decided as he closed his eyes, it was the right decision.

+++

Steve’s morning resumed the same as always. He woke up at 5am, asked Friday if Tony had made it to bed last night (_“Boss worked through the night.”_), and then went on his run. When he got back he started the coffee pot before taking his shower in hopes that the smell would lure Tony out of his workshop.

As he rinsed the suds from his hair, he reviewed the plan he prepared during his run. He didn’t want to ambush Tony and lay it all on him, at least, not until he had a couple hours of sleep in him. He would have to ask Friday what Tony’s schedule looked like today to see when would be a good time for them to talk, preferably not before something important. God forbid he took Steve’s confession poorly only to have to rush off to dinner with an international shareholder.

Tony hadn’t made his way to the kitchen if the untouched coffee pot was anything to go by, so Steve poured two cups and went in search for the man. A quick look into Tony’s bedroom confirmed he was still in the workshop.

The door to his workshop unlocked with an audible _click_ as Steve approached, and he pushed it open with his shoulder.

“Friday said you were bringing gifts!”

Tony whizzed by, grabbing both mugs out of his hands, and started on one as he made his way to one of his work stations. A blur of blue projections followed him across the room, blueprints to different designs and various documents orbiting him like their own mini solar system, some disappearing seemingly at the flick of Tony’s eyes. He set down the other mug on his work station while simultaneously plopping down on a stool, spinning a few times with childlike—or manic—amusement.

“One of those was actually for me.” Steve said lightheartedly, stepping close enough so as Tony spun his knees knocked into his legs, stopping his movement. Tony stared up a him with a frown while raising the mug back up to his mouth.

“Should’ve drank it sooner. You snooze you lose, old man.” Tony said, matter-of-factly.

“Speaking of sleep,” Steve tugged gently at Tony’s sleeve—the same blue dress shirt he wore last night, “When was the last time you got some?”

Tony clucked his tongue. “One night isn’t going to kill me. You didn’t drop an Ambien in here, did you?” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the half drunk coffee in his hands.

“I resent the implication that I would ever roofie you.”

“Stranger things have happened.” Tony said. Steve frowned, and he amended, “Sorry, bad joke.”

“Tony.”

Tony waved a dismissive hand in the air and spun around the opposite direction, knees hitting the other side of his legs.

He continued, flipping through a couple holograms without an apparent rhyme or reason, “Anyway, what brings you down here, Cap?”

“Well, I was hoping to convince you to go to bed—”

“—my, my, Captain. That’s mighty forward of you—”

“But since _sleep_ is a lost cause,” Steve plowed on, ignoring the suggestive arch of Tony’s eyebrow, “I do have something I need to talk to you about. But it can wait until after you’re done with whatever you’re working on.”

With a wave of his hand the holograms blinked out of existence. Tony leaned back against his workbench and met Steve’s gaze.

“Now is a good time. I could use a break.”

Steve managed to refrain from rolling his eyes at him. Tony ducked his head, wild curls blocking his face from view, and took a long sip from his mug, barely managing to smother the amused smile on his face. Steve had to slip his hand into his pocket to keep from running his hands through Tony’s hair. 

Steve’s resolve started to crumble as the silence stretched on between them. Tony had looked back up at him expectantly, expression soft and open, encouraging, if not a little curious. The sight of him made his mouth go dry. It was so easy to be swept up in Tony’s energy, he’d forgotten his nerves in the first place. But now, the confession he was prepared to make just a second ago was gathered like a lump stuck in the back of his throat. He was all too aware that this could be the last time Tony looked at him like that—unguarded, warmly, like a trusted friend.

“I, um, I talked to Buck last night.” The words stumbled out, considerably less confident than he was moments ago. The light, teasing atmosphere was suddenly gone as Tony’s expression shifted marginally, brows slightly drawn. He was rapidly becoming hyperaware of their proximity, the point where Tony’s knee was still pressed against his leg abruptly felt all too much.

“Right. I guess you saw…” Tony gestured his hand in a noncommittal wave as his words trailed off. Steve nodded. There was no use in dragging this out any longer than it had to be.

“Yeah, I saw you guys, ah, kiss.”

Tony shook his head, a slightly pained look on his face.

“About that, Steve. That wasn’t—”

Steve raised his hands in a placating gesture, “I don’t—you don’t owe me an explanation for who you step out with.”

“Okay. Right. But that’s the thing, we aren’t—”

“This isn’t, sorry, this isn’t—let me start over.”

“Steve—”

“Please. Just, let me say this before I can’t.” It was getting harder for Steve to meet Tony’s eyes, and by the looks of it he seemed just as uncomfortable as he felt. Tony opened his mouth once more looking like he wanted to protest, but eventually slumped back into his seat, giving Steve a patient look. “Okay. Okay.”

“You and Bucky mean so much to me. I’ve only wanted happiness for both of you, and for the two of you to find that with each other... I’m, I’m happy for you. And I know last night I might’ve gave off the wrong impression. I mean, I _was_ surprised.” Steve took a steadying breath, “and I was jealous. It was a lot to take in but I promise you Tony, I _am_ happy for you and I respect your relationship with Bucky—I would never try to undermine it— but I can’t keep living with this secret inside me. I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

Tony sat stock-still, eyes darting between Steve’s. His questioning expression slowly morphing to hesitant disbelief reminded Steve of the slow cranking gears of an old clock.

“Steve what are you saying?”

“Tony, I—”

“I’m sorry Captain, Boss—” Steve barely managed not to flinch as Friday’s lilting voice echoed around the room. “local authorities are requesting the Avengers.” 

Between them a holographic map of Maine appeared alongside shaky video footage of the scene. Steve stared blankly at the images before him, trying to follow along but not quite able to snap into a battle ready mindset. Tony, despite any internal conflict he might’ve had and lack of sleep, sprang into action, covering for Steve.

“Set up communication between first responders and Shield. Have them set a perimeter and let them know we’ll be there. 20 minutes, tops.” Tony directed the last part towards both Friday and him, only waiting for Steve to give a concurrent nod before stripping out of his dress shirt and pants and pulling on his black undersuit.

Steve hadn’t realized he was still standing in the middle of the workshop, openly ogling at Tony changing until the man cleared his throat with questioning look on his face.

Right. He needed to get his suit. Go collect the other Avengers. Start thinking strategy. Tony was already halfway out his workshop towards the Quinjet by the time Steve had gathered his bearings. He caught his gaze, and Tony stopped for just a moment, giving Steve an earnest look.

“Hey. We’re not done here.” His tone was light enough that Steve didn’t think that meant he was looking forward to being chewed out, but hopefully he’d have a chance to actually explain himself.

Steve gave him a short nod before he disappeared around the corner.

Iron Man flew ahead as Steve and the rest of the Avengers boarded the Quinjet. Steve took the time to clear his head, ridding himself of anything that didn’t pertain to the situation ahead. He listened closely this time as Friday updated the rest of the team—they were heading towards a small town in Maine, the newest location of apparently _another_ alien invasion, and although it wasn’t a New York level threat they weren’t about to take any chances.

As they approached the outskirts of the town the damage caused by the aliens was already apparent. Giant craters still smoking from impact littered the streets. Crushed cars and half collapsed buildings gave the impression of a meteor crash site. But the weirdest thing was the giant, dome-shaped net over the majority of the city.

“Iron Man, what are we looking at?”

“It looks like...power lines? Hm. No, they’re electrically charged, but my repulsors can’t cut through them.” A beat, “Oh, gross.”

“Shellhead?”

“They’re _viscous_.” Tony said, “Try not to touch them unless you want to get stuck and shocked to death.”

Clint groaned, folding his hands and glancing up towards the sky. “Please not spiders, anything but giant space spiders.”

“Hey!” Peter whined, “What’s wrong with spiders?” He glanced over at Natasha for back up, but only received a shrug before she returned to securing her Widow’s Bites to her wrists.

“Focus up.” Steve called, waiting for his team’s attention before continuing, “Thor and Iron Man keep the perimeter. Spider-man, I want you to figure out where those.._webs_ are coming from. See if you can stop the electrical current.”

“On it!” Peter shouted as he dove out of the Quinjet, Thor right behind him.

“Falcon, take Hawkeye and get eyes on these things. They couldn’t have gone far.” With a nod Sam scooped up Clint and set out to find him a vantage point. He turned to Bucky and Nat, “We’ll take the ground. First priority is getting any remaining civilians to safety.”

As soon as Bucky landed the Quinjet safely they were jumping through the small gaps of the webbing and headed into town. The distinct explosion of one of Clint’s explosive arrows was followed by a groan from the archer.

“Aw, giant space spiders, no.”

“Three blocks north, Cap.” Sam called as Steve watched his flying form dive into the cloud of smoke to where the fight was at.

Bucky and Nat peeled off towards a few storefronts in search of civilians as Steve ran forward to join Sam. True to Clint’s word, he came face to face with what could only be described as a giant space spider. Thick red hide covered its arachnid body, it’s eight legs as tall as telephone poles. Sam darted between three of the spiders, laying gunfire as he dodged their swiping appendages.

Steve threw his shield at the one closest to him and let out a huff as his shield bounced off it’s back instead of lodging into its body. The alien spider spun around, and Steve almost dropped his shield as he was met with human-like eyes and mouth.

“Why the hell do these things have _hands_?” Sam shouted as he whizzed past Steve, dodging another swinging leg. True to his word attached to the ends of each leg was a four fingered hand. 

“Not the first spider you’ve seen with hands.” Bucky’s humorous voice crackled over the comm. An offended Peter sputtered through the comm before Natasha tsk’d.

“Boys, play nice.” She chastised, a grunt, and then added, “My bites are useless against these things.”

Steve circled around the spider, careful to keep out of reach of the giant legs, and looked for any discernible weakness, but if there was any weaker part of the outer hide, it wasn’t apparent. He sent his shield flying towards it’s stomach and neck, but just like before his shield bounced off of it without a scratch in sight. He charged forward, this time using the blunt edge of his shield and aiming for its leg. He gathered all his strength and slammed down, hoping that the leg would collapse under his blow, but it scraped off its armored skin like a spoon to cement.

“Guns barely make a dent.” Sam added, his voice both in his ear and from somewhere behind him, still showering the two alien spiders with bullets.

“Iron Man?”

Tony grunted. “Repulsors are managing to stun them.” He replied shortly.

A large truck came barreling down the street, an alien spider on the hood of the truck and wildly flailing its arms towards the broken front window before the truck slammed into the side of a brick building, pinning the spider between it and the wall. Bucky leaped through the open window and sunk two knives into the spider’s eyes. The spider let out an eerily human scream as it flung Bucky off of it, sending the man skidding across the pavement.

“That’s better than nothing,” Steve replied, “Thor, think you can hold the perimeter? We could use an assist from Iron Man.” He eyed where a block away another of Clint’s explosive arrows exploded in a column of fire.

“Uh, guys? I think I found the source of the webs.” Peter unsteadily said over the comms. A yelp followed and Steve looked overhead to see a flash of red and blue flung through the air, crashing through the roof of a small store.

“Augh,” Peter groaned.

“You alright, kid?” Steve asked as he rolled out of the way of a raging spider.

“I’m fine! I landed on a bag of fertilizer!”

Clint cleared his throat, “Glad you’re okay but care to explain what the fuck that is?” 

The ground beneath Steve started rumbling, not unlike what he’d imagine an earthquake would feel like. The pavement began to crack and split as a spider larger than any they’d encountered erupted from the ground. Large fingers digging through the earth hoisting a red, monstrous alien to the surface, it’s parody of a human face grinning wickedly down at him.

“Behold your king, spider men! Claim and conquer this land!” The large alien spider bellowed out. The alien spiders began slashing and spitting webs with a renewed fervor, pushing them from their weak offense to pure defense. Steve blocked a thick black web with his shield, ducking his head from the electric sparks flying off the web.

“Thor?” Steve called out, hoping for an explanation to whatever they were fighting.

“Aye, I remember him now. Rorgg, king of the spider men. It has been some time since they’ve tried to conquer a planet like this.” Thor replied.

“Alright Spider-man, why don’t you talk to your boy _Rorgg_ and let him know we have enough ugly spiders here.” Sam suggested.

“Hey!”

“Iron Man, think you can give me a lift to Rorgg?” Bucky called out. Out of the corner of his eye Steve saw the red and gold armor swoop down and lift Bucky bridal style into the air towards Rorgg.

Natasha vaulted overhead, landing on a spider that Steve hadn’t noticed approaching him, landing an impressive kick square in its face.

“Hey, stay focused.” She reprimanded him before taking out a dagger and attacking it’s face once more. Steve shook his head, trying not to let himself be distracted by Tony and Bucky.

With his attention in front of him he helped Natasha take down one of the spiders. The two of them joined up with Sam and quickly fell into a rhythm that seemed to be working. As Sam kept the other spiders distracted, Steve and Nat took out the singled out one before moving onto the next. It was slow going and his limbs were starting to grow heavy. Every so often he glanced up, seeing Tony and Bucky circling Rorgg without much progress. Clint and Thor remained quiet over the comms, but the occasional explosions were starting to dwindle, and Steve hoped that meant they were making progress and not that Clint’s arrow supply was running low.

“Are we any closer to finding how to wrap this up?” Clint haggardly asked over the comms. So maybe he was running out of arrows.

“I think I have an idea.” Peter chirped, sounding as bright as ever. “Mr. Stark, have you ever heard of that old game, _Duck Hunt_?”

“Kid. Make it make sense, pronto.” Tony replied exasperatedly.

Peter emerged from the small shop he previously crashed through with an armful of metal cans. Without hesitation he flung them in the air, carefully aimed towards Rorgg, and shouted, “_Ducks incoming_!”

Tony, also without hesitation, aimed his repulsors towards the cans and shot them just as they hit Rorgg in the face.

Rorgg immediately flinched away at the exploding cans, coughing and sputtering as Peter flung more towards him and Tony fired.

“What is that?” Bucky asked, sniffing the air and still hanging onto Rorgg’s back as the spider kept choking.

“Pesticide DDT!” Peter replied, throwing one last can for extra measure.

With that, Rorgg’s eyes rolled back into his head and his grip on the web dome loosened, his breaths growing even more strained.

“Uh, Iron Man, I could use an evac, quick!” Bucky yelled over the comms just as Rorgg’s grip failed him and his body started to plummet towards the ground.

Steve watched as Iron Man dashed through the air, avoiding Rorgg’s flailing limbs as he tried to grab Bucky’s outstretched arm.

Steve released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as soon as Tony has Bucky secured in his arms, but in the next second an aching in his chest enveloped him at the sight of them flying through the air together. He couldn’t help but stare at where Bucky’s metal arm rested on the armor’s hip, a similar sight to last night at the gala.

Caught in a moment of distraction, Steve somehow managed to forget the giant spider falling through the air, and as Rorgg hit the ground, one of his legs kicked out and sent Steve skidding across the pavement and into the side of a brick building.

The sharp pain of the brick cracking behind him only lasted a second as he limply fell over on the ground, his vision going black almost immediately after. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Iron Man quickly approaching him. He took a shuddering breath, but his ribs twinged as they expanded, knocking the breath right out of him again.

Steve managed to prop himself up on his elbows as Tony hastily landed next to him flipping his faceplate up, a mixture of worry and annoyance on his face.

“You _idiot_! What were you thinking?” Tony crouched down, his armored hands hovering over Steve like he was afraid to touch him but couldn’t help but want to poke and prod to make sure he was still in one piece.

“Tony,” Steve said, head still ringing from the impact.

“Right, you probably weren’t thinking. God, Steve. I have a _heart condition_!”

“M’sorry. I got…distracted.”

“You got _distracted_?” Tony squawked, an incredulous look in his eyes. “What was more pressing than the _giant alien spider _about to fall on your face?”

Steve’s eyes flickered for just a moment but Tony, ever observant, followed his gaze to where Bucky was toeing at Rorgg’s unmoving head several meters away. Tony blinked, and then turned back towards Steve.

“You’ve got to be—” Tony groaned, rubbing his temples with his gauntleted hand. “Steve. Listen to me. There is nothing, _nothing_, going on between me and Barnes.”

Steve sighed. This was not how he wanted to broach the topic. “From where I was standing—”

“He was trying to set me up with you!”

Steve blinked. He couldn’t have heard that right, he must have hit his head harder than he thought. He blinked harder but Tony was still there, lips slightly parted, looking half mortified by his sudden confession, half imploring, like he so often did when willing someone to understand a simple concept.

“By _kissing_ you?” Steve asked dryly, still in slight disbelief and shock.

“It wasn’t my idea.”

“But, but you kissed Clint. And Thor, and Nat, and Bucky—”

Tony’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, well, it’s easy when there’s nothing on the line.”

“Let me get this straight,” His voice was edging on a shrillness he was unfamiliar with. “You kissed them…because you _didn’t_ like them?”

Tony nodded, looking like he knew how absurd it sounded.

“I’m not going to pretend to understand that logic.” Steve concluded.

“I’ll admit that it’s flawed.”

“You think?” Steve snorted.

In a moment of confidence, or maybe post-battle exhaustion, Steve surged up to kiss Tony. Their mouths met at an awkward angle, noses bumping and beards chafing sharply against each other. Tony’s hands flew up and gripped at Steve’s shoulders, tightening as he tried not to fall over due to either surprise or the sheer force of Steve’s face colliding with his.

Tony pulled away for a second, eyes searching Steve’s face with bated breath, a slight look of disbelief on his face. Whatever he was looking for he must have found, and pulled Steve back in for a proper, deeper kiss. The cool metal of his gauntlet wrapped around the back of his neck, Steve’s own hand mirror him, gripping the back of Tony’s helmet like a lifeline. He couldn’t tell if the thudding in his chest was from his jack rabbit heartbeat or his throbbing ribs, if his head was dizzy from kissing Tony or the possible concussion he just acquired.

The need for air finally pulled them apart, but their hands remained clasped, their foreheads touching. Steve screwed his eyes closed and nudged Tony’s nose with his own. “You have no idea—you drive me crazy,”

Tony huffed out a laugh, still sounding a little airy, “It’s a common sentiment—”

“You don’t know how, how _jealous_ I was. Watching you kiss everyone in front of me.” Steve opened his eyes to meet Tony’s. His head was still reeling from the past 24 hours, not at all recovered from the emotional whiplash he’d just endured.

Tony, perhaps sensing some of Steve’s inner turmoil, grabbed the sides of his head between his hands, the repulsors still warm from the fight holding his face so tenderly. Those two points and his eyes staring right into his, all of them anchoring Steve in the moment.

“Steve. Believe me when I say I don’t want anyone else.” He took a deep breath and smiled softly at him. “I don’t love anyone like you.”

Like a period to the end of his sentence, Tony brought Steve into a gentle kiss. Their lips just brushing for a moment before melting into something soft and gentle. Unlike before, a wild confession in the midst of heat and adrenaline, this was almost reverent and unhurried, so full of love that Steve felt like if Tony let go his body would float off into the atmosphere. Tony pulled away but pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s brow, murmuring lowly against the skin there.

Steve tucked his nose into the neck of his armor, able to breath just a little easier.

“I love you too, Tony.”

+++

“…so you made out with Stark…in front of Steve? That’s low, man.”

“I just wanted to see them happy.”

“You just wanted to win the bet, Barnes. I’m calling interference.”

“Aw Sam, you’re starting to sound like a sore loser.”

“Just take the damn money.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'Ll uPdAtE eVeRy oThEr DaY!" *insert clown emoji* 
> 
> A few notes: 
> 
> 1) Rorgg is an actual Marvel villain in the comics and is defeated by pesticide DDT (which isn't used anymore because it causes cancer but we're gonna let it slip here). 
> 
> 2) Well. It's done. Sorry that it took so long but, ya know, life sometimes hits you in the face. Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos despite my extremely sporadic updates. If you made it to the end, then an extra thank you for sticking with this fic for 7 months! 💕
> 
> 3) You can find me on tumblr @toggot (or my fanart blog @navsvan). Stay safe everyone!


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